Halfway There
by ingeniousmacabre
Summary: From Kansas to Simple Minds, love is complicated. Especially between a nerd and the girl with the earspike. (And she doesn't even wear glasses.) Follow Beca and Jesse as they stack, sort, and fix their feelings for each other at the station, and everywhere else. An extended look at the events in the movie, featuring most other characters. Canon heavy. Rated T for serious language.
1. 1: Day two at the Station

_Chapter 1: Day Two at the Station_

It's day two, and Beca could not wonder more why she is even sticking around at the station. For a place that plays music round the clock, stacking disordered CD's and arranging vinyl with a total nerd is not exactly very musical.

Sure, this Jesse guy seems okay, if not really goofy, and really _not_ subtle. Beca isn't sure how to peg him at first; he could be one of those really fantastic actors who seems all sweet and all sticky as candy, but who runs away after getting a piece of the action. Boy, is she familiar with those. Gotta remember not to encourage him.

She enters the station and proceeds out back straightaway, putting on her patented I-don't-give-a-fuck-so-don't-talk-to-me face.

"Hey," Jesse greets her as he reaches up to place a vinyl in the top shelf.

She eyebrows his presence and gives a half-second smile, just to acknowledge, as she slumps her bag on the table and absently reaches for the box of random CD's and other fixables.

"So, you know, if usual greetings aren't your thing, I could totally roll with it. Just say the word, and I will change my daily 'hey' to a bark, a siren, a bird call, if you're into that kind of thing." Beca mentally admires how he is able to keep a straight face while saying that sentence. But she only shoots him a look. Not a particularly threatening one, but more of a reply.

"_Hi_," she emphasizes, complete with a mildly plastic smile.

"Ouch," Jesse says, suddenly grasping his heart like someone just staked him. "Your sarcasm is so strong, you know that?"

"Thanks, I got it from my mom." Beca doesn't try very hard to mask her amusement this time. He's a dork; there is no other word for it. Things proceed silently for a beat, before she speaks up so as not to seem like such an ice cold bitch.

"So," she starts. "You're early today."

"Yeah, I didn't have to jog all the way from the labs today. Professor didn't show."

"Really. What a douche."

"Oh, I disagree. I thought that was very nice of him, letting me come here early so that I can greet you when you came in." He gives her that warm smile that he's so good at, and Beca can't help but think that he might be sincere.

Just then, Luke comes out of the booth.

"Great, you're both here. So, I wasn't able to give a basic overview last time because of all the CD's that had piled up, but in any case, I'm doing it today. Since you already know rule number one, several other things you should…"

As Beca and Jesse listen to Luke give a few basics ("_No nudity, parties, or friends over. No beer. No funky stuff._"), Beca takes note of her fellow intern, taking him in from her periphery. Tall, okay-looking. Alright, so maybe a little more than okay. Plaid. Laid back. Nice arms, though.

As soon as Beca's eyes lock with Jesse's for the briefest of moments, however, Jesse's focused concentration on Luke falls to the wayside to give her a really fast, really sneaky side smile, as though saying _I knew you couldn't resist giving me a side glance right now._

"Becky?"

"Wha—sorry what was that?"

"I was saying that you don't want to get caught drinking here. There's a door out back, so you never know who'll pop up."

"Got it," she replies. Jesse is just smiling to himself.

"Alright, so I'll leave you two… interns to figure the rest out. Also, Jesse, I'll need you to get my lunch."

"Oh—kay." After a few questioning looks just to make sure Luke wasn't kidding, Jesse takes out a pad and paper.

_Who the hell keeps a pad and paper on them?_ Beca supresses her insultingly incredulous face.

"So, what'll it be, boss?"

"Cheeseburger, always. Double patty, extra large Coke. From the diner near Michael Hall."

"Would you like fries with that?" But Luke had already turned around and is heading back to the booth. Beca is finding it harder to keep suppressing an insulting laugh.

"What?" Jesse turns to her, placing the pen on his ear. She merely shakes her head, lips pursed, determined to hold judgment on this dork until she knows better. Going back to stacking, she feels him smile at her as he turns away to get the first of the many burgers that he would be getting Luke.

...

* * *

By the second week, Beca has fallen into a comfortable routine with her work, studies, and social life, which involves going to work, not going to school, and avoiding as many people as possible. Still upset about having to give up L.A. for a load of crap, she holds on to her music to keep her sane during the hours she decides to skip classes, just for the hell of it.

Going to work gradually became a little more than okay, as she discovers that her fellow intern can keep her partially entertained, all while she is able to maintain a professional cool akin to not giving a shit.

"So, I was thinking, maybe you should, you know, talk this time, especially since for the past week and ever since we've been spending this much alone time together, you have basically ignored me," Jesse tries one Tuesday. Just when she doesn't reply, the ambient radio noise suddenly plays a tune that Beca happens to love.

Jesse, being more familiar with Beca's nonchalance, immediately notices her swaying ever so slightly at the "Ho, Hey" of the song. So he, of course, starts to hum a bit of the verse from behind one of the shelves.

_I've been trying to do it right. I've been living a lonely life…_

If Beca had initially thought this guy was such a nerd and totally queerballs, she seems to forget about her previous judgment as she sees him humming about his business, oblivious to the fact that he has caught her attention by going along with the tune. She tries not to stare.

_I don't know where I belong. I don't know where I went wrong…_

Luke pops his head out of the booth.

"Becky."

"Hey. What's up?" She turns around to face him. She stopped correcting him about her name by now.

"I got your message, by the way. You can take leave tomorrow. Just letting you know."

"—Kay. Cool. Thanks."

With a nod and a smile, Luke's back inside. Just when Beca is collecting her thoughts back to work, she hears the lead singer of the song a little bit louder than she anticipates.

"_I don't think you're right for him. Think of what it might have been, if you. Took a bus to Chinatown—_" Jesse suddenly sings from behind one of the shelves. Beca is immediately taken aback, though she shows less than half of her amusement. His voice is pure gold. She had no idea. She watches him while absent-mindedly placing and replacing a random stack of CD's somewhere on the table.

"_She'll be standing next to me_," Jesse tunes. His voice, _my god…_

His gaze meets hers come the chorus.

"_I belong with you, you belong with me, my sweetheart_," Jesse smiles at her, not really wanting to ruin the moment. He does nothing more than sing and swing to the beat.

Somewhere, down at the bottom of her stomach, she feels flattered. Oh come on, who wouldn't? She tries hard not to show more than mild amusement, but she is seriously fascinated by this young man in front of her, stacking CD's and singing with a voice that made goosebumps on her skin.

When he gets a little more animated and starts swinging more than necessary, Beca decides that this man is _not _a possible asshole/drunkard/serial killer. He is 100%, pure, wholesome weirdo, no preservatives added. People like him have their own little world, and Beca will do her best to steer clear away from his future shenanigans.

"_I belong with you, you belong with me, my sweet_," Jesse finishes with a huge smile and meaningful eyes directed at her. She shakes her head at him.

"So, I take it you like The Lumineers," he quips as he goes back to the table to get more CDs.

"They're cool," she tries for nonchalance. She's not sure if she accomplished it. If he thought she's trying too hard, he doesn't show it.

"You need help with that random pile of CDs you happen to stack on top of each other?"

"No, no. I got it," she says, confident as hell and returning his smile, as she gathers up her stack, along with her pride, and goes to a shelf where she can self-meditate and collect the cool she left all over the floor when he started singing the song to her.

_At me. No, not even. He was just singing, _a small voice carried on her inner musings.

...

* * *

_The lights are on, but you're not home…_

It's the following Thursday, and Beca grooves to the smooth sound of Florence + The Machine as she hears them through her massive headphones while rolling the tray of vinyl and CDs along. She doesn't notice Jesse come in and watch her from behind, a grin spread across his face as she subconsciously sways her hips to the extremely catchy "Addicted to Love".

Which is why, when she turns around, she nearly jumps out of her skin at the sight of a grinning Jesse.

"Fuck! How long have you been there?" She quickly composes herself as she lowers her headphones. Nothing to be embarrassed about. _He's just a nerd, no worries. You were just dancing by yourself, so what? No one cares._

"Me? Oh no, I just got here." He doesn't even hide the goofy grin he has as he bites his lower lip out of complete and utter amusement. He makes no move to get to work, just stands there.

"Yeah, well, get to work, dork," she counters defensively, suddenly aware of her CD-stacking movements. She doesn't put her headphones back on, she just lets the music play. She is not about to be caught off guard like that again. He joins her, and they stack silently for a while, even though he is evidently holding back a grin.

"That's some really great hip movement you got there."

"Shut up."

He is silent for a beat, but he just can't resist.

"So you take classes for that or—"

"I swear to god, I will punch you."

"Okay, whoa. Easy, Hillary baby."

"Don't call me 'baby'," she stops to glare, dead serious. He opens his mouth for an explanation, but her massive headphones suddenly start leaking Adele's _Skyfall._

"Oh hey!" he points to her headphones. "You have the new track. Have you seen?"

She is completely lost. "Seen what?"

Just then, Luke comes out with a new box of things that should be in their proper places. Beca's eyes are drawn to the fact that this heavy box is flexing Luke's muscles a little more than she would like to notice. She also notices Jesse, who, from her periphery, seems to notice her appreciation for Luke's workouts, whatever that is.

"Hey man, you need help with that?" Jesse asks, just as Luke is about place the box on the far end of the table, the cleaner end.

"No, I've got it. So, this is a new box of junk that you guys will have to..."

Jesse can't help but shift his attention between what Luke is saying, and how Beca is looking at him. He's not that hot… maybe hotter than him, but so what? Beca's not into him, is she? Wait, _is she_? He tries to see if anything about Beca would tell him otherwise.

"Jesse? Did you get that?" Luke says as Jesse snaps his gaze away from Beca.

"Yeah, crystal. Got it."

"Alright," Luke answers, unconvinced. "You guys are some of the stranger ones I've gotten." He goes back inside the confines of his booth, but not before noticing Beca's exposed shoulder with the tattoo.

"Nice tat."

"Thanks," Beca says after him. She turns her attention to Jesse, who happens to be missing his usual stellar smile. She noticed he was staring at her while Luke was talking. Which wasn't creepy, like at all, sarcasm intended. They get to the box filled with work.

"What's up with you?" she asks him after reaching for the first one.

"Huh, what?"

"You were kind of staring at me. It's creepy."

He pauses his work and looks at her straight, all too serious.

"That's because I find you insanely beautiful."

They stand in silence for a moment, before she makes an incredulous face at him, and he let's out a burst of laughter. It's moments like these, these little understandings between them, that makes him love spending time with her.

She makes a face to show her disbelief, because, really. She doesn't believe him, his silly little sarcasms. Even though sometimes, when he pulls off something like this, she wants to.

* * *

.:.

**Author's note**:

I own none of the music or the characters herein. Also, I'd like to point out that the first song was mentioned in another Beca/Jesse fic that I happened upon called "I Belong With You, You Belong With Me", by heartsmash.

Finally, a word. This fic would be almost completely made of supposed scenes that the movie would not have been able to include. A lot of the station, maybe the Treble house, and other places. Other pairings. It's all canon-based, so I would love to hear your thoughts on this. Reviews are welcome.

I hope you like it. :)

-Kyle

MUSIC: Ho Hey - The Lumineers; Addicted to Love - as covered by Florence + The Machine; Skyfall - Adele


	2. 2: Intro to Philosophy

_Chapter 2: Intro to Philosophy_

Week three, and Beca is slowly losing the will to live. Most especially when Kimmy Jin's alarm goes off at six in the morning for god-knows-what.

*Ring*

_Oh come one. No one is awake at six in the morning. No one._

Beca tries to bury her head in a mass of pillow. _Goddamnit_.

Mornings are the abominable after-effects of the earth's rotation around the sun. Beca knows this. But she doesn't care, because she'd rather the world stop spinning, like, _right now. _She also wants Kimmy Jin's alarm to stop. She wants a lot of things, but most of all, she wants to go right back to sleep. The morning can go to hell.

* * *

She's not able to get back to sleep that morning, which is what makes her professor call her out during her Intro to Philosophy class later.

"Ms. Mitchell?"

Beca doesn't answer, because Beca doesn't hear. Beca is dwindling between sleepyzone, twilight zone, and all the other zones except the one where she's paying attention. Her elbows leaning on the desk, forehead leaning on her palms as her hair covers most of her face, anyone would think she's in deep concentration about Heidegger, except for the fact that her earphones are leaking.

"_Ms. Mitchell!_"

"Jeez—" Beca starts, nearly hitting her head on the desk. The class giggles a bit. She blinks, a bit droopy-eyed, before realizing she's in an actual class. With actual people. And the actual professor asking her a legitimate question.

"Here's another chance. What was Heidegger trying to say in the text, Ms. Mitchell?"

The asshole. He knows she was sleeping.

"As I was saying… It was Jesus."

The class full-on bursts in laughter. She smiles. _Oh shit._

"Ms. Mitchell, you might think you're 'privileged' (he stresses out this word) in this university, but you will be surprised to find out that Barden professors sometimes do care about their students learning."

Beca slumps lower in her chair.

"If you cannot be bothered to listen to class during such times as a long oral exam, then perhaps it would suit you better to simply leave, and not come back."

_Well, this is shit_, Beca thinks to herself. Her classmates go silent. This is serious shit right here, and Beca is in no mood to apologize to anyone except herself for accepting this stupid idea in the first place.

"Fine," she retorts, as she gathers her things and goes. As soon as she's out of the classroom, she heaves a heavy sigh, pissed off and less agreeable than usual. Which means she's not agreeable at all.

For some reason, she goes straight to the station. Her work doesn't start until after her Philo class, but she's more than willing to get there and finish her work ahead of time. No people, no distractions, because no shit, she is not in the mood to have any form of social interaction today.

She puts on her headphones and drowns the world out as she listens to La Roux for the nth time, viciously going about her work as if each misplaced CD symbolized how she's really not supposed to be at Barden.

…

Jesse comes in at his usual time (albeit a little late), when Beca is gathering up her things to go. She has left almost no work for him to do.

"Woah there, Mary Poppins. Hold up," he says, looking about as if she just robbed the place empty. Beca stops in front of him, impatient and grumpy-looking. Jesse is standing in her way, and she swears, if he doesn't move in about two seconds…

"Have you just gotten in touch with that side of you that loves stacking CDs?" Beca rolls her eyes. He goes on, moving aside to go to the desk. "I mean, I knew this day would come, I just didn't know how intense your passion was for this—"

"Can we not do this right now?" Beca rubs the bridge of her nose. Her backpack in on her back, she's ready to leave. She should totally turn on her heels and go. But of course, that would be ice queen, cold bitch of her to do. He at least deserves a 'see you later'.

"Look man, I'll see you when I see you," she says, walking backwards to the entrance right before she turns around.

Jesse had immediately picked up the bitter scent of anger and disappointment the moment he had seen her not thirty seconds ago. She looks heavy, tired, and though he tried to make light of it, she is obviously having none of that today. So he drops the last stack on the desk and walks after her.

"Hey Beca. Bec—" he calls after her.

"What do you want?"

To be honest, Jesse doesn't really know either. So he doesn't know what to say the moment she turns around. But thank god for Beca's leaky headphones.

His gaze drops to the sound from around her neck, and he immediately catches the tune.

"_I don't wanna hurt you, but I need to breathe_," he whispers at first.

"Sorry, what?"

"_At the end of it all, you're still my best friend—"_ he sings out loud as he backs away slowly, dramatically, to the tune of Beca's leaky headphones.

Beca's face contorts in half-attempt to hide her WTF face and her amused face. _What does he think he's doing? He's insane. He's totally lost it._

"You are insane," she calls out, looking absolutely incredulous and partly amused at watching him sing all out. She can't help but shake her head and look totally mortified and confused and _dude, what in the actual fuck?_

"_But there's something inside, that I need to release._"

She's smiling now, but she shakes her head and tries harder to look unaffected. Jesse does this kind of thing all the time, and she usually has the nerves and the dignity to look cool about it, but right now…

"Look man, I really gotta go, but it's nice to see you drunk like this," she finally gives up. _Ugh. Nerd. _(But she is smiling, of course.)

Jesse finally stops mid-chorus. Well, he tried. He smiles to himself, and goes back to stacking the last pile. _At least she left smiling_, he thinks to himself.

...

* * *

"_You gotta get out there, Bec. You gotta try something."_

The words of her father echo in her mind as she goes to the station that fourth week.

"Hey," Jesse greets. Like any other day, she doesn't reply. But today, she doesn't even look at him or acknowledge his existence; she goes right to the stack, head deep in thought about the implications of her father's talk.

"What's gotten into you today? Not feeling like showing your appreciation for my existence?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Sorry." She realizes she's been rude, and she smiles at him.

"Something wrong?"

"No, nothing. It's just… this stupid thing and, like…" she debates about how far she should open up about this. It's not like she has anyone else to talk to. Jesse stops everything and has his full attention to her.

"Okay, should I give it a shot?" she asks in all seriousness.

Jesse's eyes narrow, and he has absolutely no idea what she is talking about, but hey. He can roll with this.

"I would ask you," he starts, continuing with his work, "about what it is you are shooting for, but I'm not going to. I'm just gonna say yes. Definitely." He says, mildly pleased with his answer.

She nods. Time for some fun.

"Yeah, you know what, you're right. I should totally ask Luke out," she deadpans. Jesse accidentally drops a huge pile of CDs there and then, and Luke comes out of the booth at the sound.

"Hey, what's that ruckus?"

Beca is, by now, not even trying to hide how much she is enjoying this.

"Oh, nothing," she adds, almost laughing, as she bends down to help Jesse. "Nothing, Luke! Sorry, Jesse here's just a bit clumsy today."

It's Jesse's turn to shoot her a look. She is still holding back a laugh.

"Jesse, please try to avoid breaking anything. Those are expensive and hard to replace," Luke admonishes as he goes back in the booth. As soon as the door closes, Beca spurts out a giggle.

"Excuse me, satan," Jesse says as he stands up with a pile of CDs, "but I have to fix this."

Beca hasn't smiled or laughed that much since she got to Barden. In turn, Jesse finds himself smiling as well, despite how mortifying those moments were to him. (Seriously, that was scary shit. Beca asking Luke out? Jesse would rather have the universe _not, _thanks very much.)

It's nice to see Beca have some fun, though. He should make her go out and do something fun one of these days.


	3. 3: See You at Auditions

_Chapter 3: See You at Auditions_

_"See you at auditions." _

Chloe had called out to her. Aside from the mentally scarring bathroom run-in, Beca is seriously considering this. After a few days getting over her initial no-way-in-fucking-hell phase, she starts to weigh the decision.

Her father had told her to take a chance in college. To be fair, she does seem to be missing out on a lot of… whatever it is that everyone else seems to love about this place. She knows she's purposefully secluding herself, and it's been a month.

Jesse told her to go for it.

_What? No. Why is he even in the equation? _She shakes her head at the thought.

A combination of factors (among which are Kimmy Jin's alarm clock, her annoying professors, and some rude frat guys) convinces her that, on the audition day, she isn't going.

Yup, she's not going to audition.

Nevermind that she and Chloe sounded awesome (_perhaps it was the acoustics_, she thought. _Everyone sounds better in the showers_) or that she needed to go out there. Or that Jesse had told her yes. _Wait, again, why is he even in the picture? _

But in any case, she makes up her mind not to go to the audition later that afternoon. She stacks CD's and vinyl purposefully now, knowing that finally, she has come to a conclusion that she is satisfied with…

"Hey there, weirdo," Jesse calls out as he slings his bag on his shoulder. "I'll catch you tomorrow?"

"Oh?" She's suddenly curious. "Where you headed?" It's barely half past their stacking time, and he's already on his way out.

"Gotta practice for something. Auditions for the a capella groups later," he replies, then he pauses and gets a bright idea.

"Hey! You know what? You should come with!"

Her look is incredulous, and it's something he's used to, something he isn't deterred by anymore. She looks like he just suggested the most ridiculous thing in the world, but of course, her mind is going _Oh my god. I just decided on this. What the hell. _

Jesse slumps his bag off his shoulders just to show that he's going to stay here and try to convince her.

"I'm serious, Beca. Okay, listen," he tells her. He is about to launch into one of his famous tirades, and she obliges him. (It is important to note that the word "oblige", to Beca Mitchell, means rolling her eyes and glancing up in semi-regular intervals in order to show the tiniest bit of interest.)

"I think that you might actually have a bit of hidden musical talent—wait no, come on, just hear me out for a sec. Just come to the auditions with me."

"Dude, no."

"Why not?"

"Because!" Beca tries to search her head for an answer. "Because a capella is lame."

Jesse puts on _such_ a hurt face. *Gasp!*

"Oh, so _I'm_ lame? Is that what you're saying?" _He is such an annoying dork, _she smiles to herself, raising an eyebrow at his Oscar-winning performance. He's kind of laughing now.

"Come on, just say so. If you think I'm lame, and not cool enough for you—" he continues in mock seriousness, and he's totally getting to her. He can see her eyes crinkle.

"No, drama queen, you are just so, super awesome, I can't even stand the sight of you. It just makes me feel bad that I can never be half the man that you are."

"Really? That so?"

"That's totally how it is."

"Right."

"Right."

"Right, okay," Jesse says, picking his bag up again and smiling at her. "So I'm just gonna go, get a mop for all the sarcasm you dripped all over the floor."

"Yeah, you do that."

"Alright," he says, backing away and about to leave. "But if you change your mind, just so you know, I'm sticking around till the end of auditions, just so I can hear you blow the judges away with your amazing range and your…" he swings his hips a bit, "… amazing moves."

She throws a CD at him, which accidentally lands with a clatter at a distant pile, catching the attention of Luke from inside the booth.

"Hey…"

"It was his fault," Beca says as Luke pops his head out of the booth while Jesse makes a run for it. She's still grinning to herself as she goes back to stacking. It takes her the rest of the time to actually realize that she had absolutely no reason _not _to go to the auditions…

No big deal. She'll just drop in, see what it's all about, drop back out. No commitments. What could go wrong? So with that, she leaves the station and heads straight for the auditorium.

But of course, she just really wants to hear Jesse sing his pipes out.

* * *

_Next up: The auditions, from both Jesse's and Beca's POVs._


	4. 4: Since U Been Gone

_Chapter 4: Since U Been Gone_

"_But if you think this is just some high school club, where you can sing and dance your way through any big social issue, or confused sexuality, you have come to the wrong place. There is none of that here."_

Jesse takes it all in. He's been waiting for this day since day one in college, and he is absolutely excited for it all. He's never one to have been shy about singing, but at the same time, this is college, man. It's fucking college. He doesn't know how to feel, his nerves are mixing with the energy, and he's pretty stoked.

He just wishes he had been more successful at convincing Beca to come with.

Jesse thinks back to Beca earlier. She loves music, that much he can tell. But she'd seemed pretty surprised that he would ask her to come to the auditions with him. Then again, she is Beca. He wouldn't be surprised if she thought eating food was lame.

"_Hey Bellas, remember when you tried to play in the big leagues and you choked_?..."

_The leader of the Trebles is an ass, _Jesse thinks. Now he sees part of the reason why Beca must not like people. But he hopes she likes him.

He notices her little quirks beyond her usual chilling persona, whenever he'd try to make conversation or pull off a stunt. She would sometimes show cracks, like when she's trying really hard not to smile, or when she'd come back with a clever retort. But mostly, it's when she pays attention to him when he sings, even though she doesn't show it. It's the tiniest of encouragements when he's trying to win her over, but with Beca, he'll take what he can get. She seems like she could use his goofiness, based on her over-all aura of death, and Jesse was never one to hold back on something he could do for a friend.

A friend. Huh. Oh well.

"_My fellow a-ca-people: We will not let egotistical, big-headed, garbage dirtballs, whoever you may be, get in our way_…"

Jesse makes a face of approval at the sheer ballsiness of this Bella leader. Benji can't help but agree. This woman's got testicles.

One after the other, they are called up on stage, and when it's Jesse's time, he does a quick scan around the room, hoping for a familiar face.

_Oh well. It was worth a shot_, he thinks, as he gets up on stage.

* * *

Beca had not really been in a hurry to walk over to the auditorium. She figures that if it's meant to be, she'll get there, and there will still be people. Not being familiar with the place, she enters from backstage, as she hears a familiar name being called up.

"Jesse Swanson? Any 'Jesse here'?"

"Right here, man." She hears his footsteps going up the stage as she stands in the shadows, careful to keep herself hidden.

"Alright, good luck." The announcer exits.

And then, there it was, this strange beat thing that Jesse had to do. Beca figures out the song before she's even heard the first word, and she knows that there is no way in hell that she can pull off a Clarkson. That's just not her style or range. She listens to Jesse sail through the first verse and she can't help but feel her ears melting into butter. She takes a peak into the audience, pleased to see that they share her sentiment.

"_That's all you'd ever hear me say_…"

Beca can't help but cringe, anticipating the worst for the chorus.

"_Since you been gone_… it's high. _I can't breathe for the first time_. Jesus."

Beca's eyes widen, as Jesse reaches the high notes, though not effortlessly. Still, for a guy to be able to sing that? _Pretty fucking amaze-balls_, Beca thinks. She shakes her head to herself. _Of course he would reach that. He can sing. This man can really sing._

"_Out of sight, out of mind…" _he continues. Some sort of competitive streak awakens in Beca, and she suddenly finds herself wanting to outdo whatever it is that Jesse just pulled off. Of course, she knows she can't. Not in a million years. But still, it would be nice to suddenly surprise him with a guest appearance. Maybe show him that she's got a couple of tricks up her sleeve as well. She contemplates this, even after the last one up has finished, and most everyone has left.

"Okay, that is everybody. I'm really not impressed this year, guys."

Decidedly, she picks up her nerves and emerges from the shadows. Chloe is the first one to see her.

"Oh, wait, there's one more," Chloe adds.

* * *

Jesse had been prepared to leave, were it not for the fact that he had left his sweater in the auditorium. As he goes back for it, he hears someone say there was one more.

"Hello. Umm, I didn't know we had to prepare that song."

Jesse stops at that unmistakable voice. He starts walking back towards the auditorium.

"That's okay," he hears Chloe say, "Sing anything you want."

He stops by the far side of the auditorium, at the exits. She showed up. Beca actually showed up. He mentally chastises himself for not actually keeping to his word and staying all the way up to the end of the auditions. He could've missed her.

He sees her just as she empties a plastic cup of a random stack of pens. _What is she up to?_

Since they were all required to make a beat during the auditions, Beca is now making a beat. With a plastic cup. Sitting on the floor of the stage, clapping and tapping away.

Jesse is entranced. _Can this woman get any more fascinating?_

"_I've got a ticket for the long way round._

_Two bottles of whiskey for the way._

_And I sure would like some sweet company_

_And I'm leaving tomorrow, what do you say."_

Jesse feels shivers run through his back as Beca's strong voice pierces the silent harshness of the auditorium. He can see the Trebles whispering to themselves, and the rest of the room is in quiet concentration at Beca's display of raw talent. The Bellas are especially focused.

"_You're gonna miss me by my hair, you're gonna miss me everywhere, oh I know you're gonna miss me when I'm gone."_

Clap clap, tap tap, clap tap tap.

Beca's face looks bored, but the Trebles are nodding, the Bellas are smiling (well, half of them), and Jesse's mind is reeling from a revelation.

_The girl I like can sing. She can really sing._

His mind sparks in a million little fireworks, but all he manages to utter is "Wow."


	5. 5: Hood Night

_Chapter 5: Hood Night_

"_And I solemnly promise to never have sexual relations with a Treblemaker, or may my vocal chords be ripped out by wolves. _"

Well, that was something.

It's late night, and they're on their way to a-ca-initiation to get drunk and party with the other groups, right after swearing to never bed the Trebles. But that was after drinking the blood of the Bellas who came before.

_The fuck did I get myself into._

But Beca just goes with it. She's not the type to back down at a challenge. Still, it would help if the people, place, and circumstances were a little less insane. It would be ideal to be around normalcy around here, but apparently, Barden must have a policy against those things.

"Prepare to soften the beach," Aubrey says, as the new baby Bellas get to the amphitheater.

"I don't know what I'm doing here," Beca unconsciously says.

"Living the dream," Fat Amy replies. "I still can't believe they let my sexy fat ass in."

Beca knows this probably isn't the best place for her. She could be working on her mixes right now, doing other fun things. Hell, she could be in L.A. But a sudden voice out of nowhere snaps her back to attention.

"Beca! Beca!"

"Wow," Beca muses. This guy keeps showing up everywhere, doesn't he? She sees him climb the steps, calling out what seems to be, yes, a birdcall version of her name.

"Be-caw! Bec—" he finishes, his eyes softening at the sight of her.

"Do my eyes deceive me, or are you a Barden Bella?

"No."

"You're one of those a capella girls, I'm one of those a capella boys, and we're gonna have a-ca-children. It's inevitable."

Beca knows he's probably not had that many beers, but she also knows he's probably not had that many beers _in his life, _which would account for him going all not-so-subtle yet again.

"You okay? Yeah? You almost fell over? Can you pass the sobriety test right now? Can you stand up straight?"

She mock pushes him around, obliging him, since he is clearly out of his wits as of the moment.

"Can I get you a drink? I'm gonna get you a drink. I think you need to get on this level," he finally leaves her alone.

"Please be careful," Beca calls after him as he goes down between rows. He clearly needs some sort of chaperone or something. Poor kid.

The rest of the night goes by without any majorly disastrous incidents. Beca is able to avoid over-interaction with strangers, drunk or otherwise, and Jesse, a little tipsy over the cold night air and the cold beer, manages not to trip over the pews. The other Bellas seem to be enjoying themselves, some a little more than others ("Someone's getting T-boned tonight," Fat Amy comments about Kori working Donald like a pole.). Still, it's a change from her usual routine.

When the music plays and Jesse goes over to her with a beer, she notices that he's a bit more fucked over than last they talked, which wasn't more than some minutes ago.

"Gotta keep your head up, oh-oh. I don't know the words, but I can…" he sings as he gives Beca what she hopes is a clean cup of beer. She doesn't know what to make of whatever the fuck it is that she got into. But hey. At least she knows one other person around.

"This is awesome," Jesse remarks to no one in particular. _Uh-oh. Has he hit the_—

"We are the kings of campus!" Jesse screams in front of the intoxicated crowd of young adults. _Yes. Yes, he's hit that mark_, she thinks.

"You done?" she asks. He turns around, smiling and little bit shitballs crazy. He nearly loses his balance, and Beca needs to usher him slowly down to sit. Damned zero-tolerance nerds.

"Thanks, Beca!" he says affectionately. "You're so nice to me."

"Mm-mm. Nope," she says behind the cup of beer.

"Can I get a video of this? You being nice to me?"

"Dude how many beers did you—"

"I had, like, this many," he says, while holding up a Vulcan salute. This makes her laugh.

"I saw your audition, by the way," he tells her.

"No you didn't."

"Yes, I did."

"You didn't, cause I was there. And I didn't see you around," Beca adds. It's true, she hadn't seen him around, even though, and this is not really a big deal, he had told her he was going to stick around for her arrival. She had gotten up on that stage and sung, though a little bit disappointed that he wasn't there to see her triumph.

"Just because you didn't see me," he retorts, "doesn't mean that I wasn't there." His pointy finger, aiming for her nose, accidentally pokes her mouth instead, making her grimace. Wow, he really is drunk.

"Alright, Casanova, I think that's enough beer to last you the night." She takes his cup away from him.

"You worried about me, Beca?"

She stops, brows furrowed. She's a little bit surprised at his audacity, but since he's drunk, she will let that one slide. He's looking at her with that puppy face, and it's all she can do to keep from pushing him over the side of the benches.

"Actually yes. Wouldn't want you to get a beer belly now, would we?" she winks at him, and pats at the flab of stomach that his sitting posture is showing. He makes a mental note to never try that again.

"So, I'm gonna get going," she adds, "and I would strongly suggest that you stop drinking."

"Only if I can walk you to your dorm."

"Dude, _I _should walk you to _your_ dorm."

"Am I that obvious?"

"You're that wasted."

"Really?"

"Yeah you are," she adds, laughing at him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I miss you already," he calls out as she walks away from the party. _Damned nerds, _she thinks.


	6. 6: Toner

_Chapter 6: Toner_

_"I know you have a toner for Jesse."_

Of all the things that had been thrown at her during her life in Barden, that one takes home the grand prize. What the fuck is a toner? More accurately, musical boner? Musical. Fucking. Boner? Who comes up with shit like that?

Her head is swimming in the ridiculousness of it all when she comes in for work at the station the day after the first Bella rehearsals.

_What the hell did Aubrey even mean by that?_ She tries to wrap her head around exactly what Aubrey was trying to imply. She thinks she likes him. Aubrey thinks Beca likes Jesse. In a… musical way? What even.

Beca scrunches her face at the thought of it. She's tired, it's semi-morning (more like almost lunch), and she doesn't want to think about Jesse and his silly…

"Hey, a caBella," he chimes, entering with his usual swaggy charm.

"Please don't call me that."

"Call you what, a caBeca?" She rolls her eyes painfully slow, but it still doesn't wipe the cheeky grin he has as he perches himself atop the desk and starts with the sorting. She's not mad. He'd know if she's mad. She knows he'd know if she were mad. Instead, he takes a huge bite out of the donut he's eating.

"Har har. You're adorable," she deadpans.

"Thank you, very much," he answers. "I think that may be the nicest thing you've ever said to me." He offers her a napkin from the donut. "Can I get that in writing, please?"

She gives him another look. By now, Jesse's catalogued her looks into several distinct categories in his mind:

* * *

**The Eye Squint**:

The look that Beca gives him when he says something that she'd rather not react to.

_"Do you think that Luke purposefully told us *not* to have sex on the desk, just so we would?" he says. Beca gives him an eye-squint, and doesn't reply._

**The Blank Stare**:

The look that Beca gives him every other Tuesday. At lease, he thinks it's every other Tuesday. It's hard to keep track, really. Most days, it alternates with The Eye Squint.

_"So hey, is there really a back door to this place?" _

_"Noooo," she counters, in mock realism. _

_"Wait, so have you actually seen—"_

_She gives him a blank stare. Of course, you idiot, he thinks to himself. She came in from the back._

**The Plastic Smile**:

The look that Beca gives him when she's being extra sarcastic.

_She comes in late one day, looking more haggard than usual._

_"Hey… heeey." He repeats the greeting after failing to come up with a clever reference, because damn, she looks like shit today. This earns him a plastic smile from her, showing how much she appreciates the fact that he didn't just call her something creative, like Shrek._

**The Eyebrow Raise**:

The one look Beca gives him that makes him feel like he's achieved a small victory. Normally, this look is accompanied by a suppressed smile or laughter, and it usually means he's done something she considers 'stupid'.

_"Dude, what the hell," she says, going over to him to try to help him with placing a vinyl on a crowded shelf. _

_"It's not going in," he says. _

_"Seriously?" _

_"What?" _

_She figures he's not gonna complete the joke (probably doesn't even realize it is one), so she helps him stack the vinyl. Halfway through, he stops and starts laughing, and she can't help but raise her eyebrows at him._

_"You're an idiot," she finally remarks._

* * *

Today, she doesn't look that put together, but they've spent almost two months together almost every day, stacking CDs and vinyl and cracking jokes (him) and being sarcastic (her). Their relationship has reached understandable levels of wit, and it's become something she looks forward to.

"You gonna tell me the interesting activities that got you up all night?"

This merits nothing from her.

"Wow, it's that serious isn't it. Who's the dude?"

She doesn't say anything, _but why is he so interested?_ Eye-squint.

"Oh, okay. So not a dude, then? Are we talking Bellas, or some other circle of… girl friends…?"

She looks at the smug grin on his face, and _fine, you asked for it._

"Why don't you guess who I was with last night," she calmly says, and out of nowhere, Jesse's grin is wiped clean, and she sees his Adam's apple bob ever so slightly. She'll give him credit, though. It was a clean split-second, and not a moment more before he composes himself. Of course, she considers this all to be, like, instinct. Jesse's not really affected by what she said… she thinks.

"Oh, well _gee_, Beca," he mockingly chuckles, "it's not like you're overly enthusiastic about sharing who your friends are with me."

Jesse doesn't see anything but the suspicious side-smile from Beca, and, try as he might, he can't help but be curious about what exactly she's trying to pull off here.

"This is a really weird conversation right now, you know that?"

"Yeah? You wanted to know..."

"Yea—Becs, what are you… alright, fine. Who is the lucky soul that you deemed worthy of spending your time with last night?"

When she doesn't answer, and simply gives a more mischievous look, he feels the knots in his stomach turn. _What the hell, Bec?_ For some reason, the vagueness of her teasing is really getting to him. What is she trying to say? How is he supposed to react to this?

Just then, Luke comes out of the booth. _Perfect timing_, Beca thinks.

"Hey, Luke," she greets, a little more enthusiastic than she usually is. Jesse stops what he's doing, and the wheels of his mind are going crazy.

"Hello, Becky," Luke answers, a bit unsure. "So anyway, could you get me lunch?" he says to Jesse. At this exact moment, Beca turns to Jesse and smiles like an idiot.

_Oh god, no. _Jesse's eyes could not have been wider.

Luke is looking back and forth between the two, not having a damn clue what all this smiling and staring is all about.

"Jesse? You okay?" Luke asks him.

The gears in Jesse's mind clicked a while ago, and a wave of nauseating semi-realization is hitting him in the face. He is looking from Luke to a pleased, smiling Beca, and his mind takes him back to what Beca just asked him: "_Guess who I was with last night_?"

Beca is taking it all in, absorbing the victory of her little scheme. Who knew Jesse would turn white as a unicorn at the hint of Luke and her? Clearly, Jesse's making all the right connections that she's trying to imply, and she can't help but have to keep her mouth pursed really tight, to avoid bursting out hysterically. She fails, of course, and ends up bursting out in such a spectacularly unattractive laughter, it's offensive.

Luke is visibly befuddled, while Jesse's distress signals lower down notch by notch, until he heaves a sigh of relief.

It's probably written in the Duties and Responsibilities of a Bella Woman to never snort while laughing, but Beca doesn't care. That was funny shit.

"Sorry, am I interrupting anything? Are you two high?" Luke is desperately trying to piece together what the two must've inhaled.

"No, it's all cool man," Jesse goes over to Luke and places a hand on his shoulder, his face a picture of genuine relief, while Beca has calmed down enough for a placating smile at the far end of the desk.

"I'll get you your lunch, no worries."

"Alright… I appreciate that."

"Mhmm."

The awkward moment between Jesse and Luke, with Jesse looking oh-so-relieved, and Luke looking a little uncomfortable, is probably the best part of her little stunt, Beca thinks.

…

"How come you never ask me what I want for lunch?"

"How come you never offer to come with me?"

"Okay. Fair."

Jesse thinks he should get back at her for what she just did a while back, but he thinks better of it. They're stacking CDs again, peacefully. She's back to being her usual, calm, ice queen self (with a little more… bite), and the events of earlier toned him down as well.

"Did the prospect of me riding Luke all the way home bother you that much?" Beca is clearly enjoying this. Hey, she can be reclusive if she wants. But she can also dish it out when she wants to. Jesse doesn't have a monopoly on being annoying.

Opposite her, though, Jesse drops his head and gives a boyish smile. _You have no idea what you just did to me, do you? _He wants nothing more than to get back at her by… singing to her. Yeah, that would flush her. He's not stupid; he has an inkling that Beca's got the hots for his voice (ah, if only he can reduce the entirety of himself into just his voice). But now's just not the right time for that.

Instead, he gives a low chuckle, and bites his lower lip. Damn, he really needs to step his game up. If Beca can't tell that he's so into her by now, then he should probably be a little more creative.

Beca feels a tiny bit of triumph. Yesterday was a blast with the first Bella rehearsals; a terrible mushroom cloud of negative, but it's nice to get to work today and own this dork. He obviously likes her, she thinks. But she'll keep her distance for now. Things like this could get messy, and she's glad they have this certain understanding of how things are between them. How are things? That is a very good question that she'd rather not get into as of the moment.

* * *

_Next up:_ _Beca and Luke, again. Right before the SBT fall mixer._


	7. 7: The Chess Match Begins

_Chapter 7: The Chess Match Begins_

"_You can fool around with whoever you want to, just not a Treble_."

Beca remembers Aubrey's Golden Rule Number One from last week's practice as she watches Jesse hum to the tune of "Stubborn Love", another great one from The Lumineers. The Fall Mixer for Sigma Beta Theta is tomorrow, but all she notices is how he makes this goofy back-and-forth bobbing with his head, and she's holding back a grin, like she always does, like, 98.5% of the time when she's around him.

"You know, you should really try for a smile," he suddenly starts. "It'd be a lot easier if you just, you know, let them out, rather than keeping them in all the time. I hear that's really bad for your vocal chords."

She gives him an eye-quint, but her eyes keep darting back to the man inside the booth.

Beca had been mustering the courage to submit her mixes to Luke for sometime now, and though she looks calm on the outside, she's thinking about whether or not Luke would like her work. Music is her life, and as an artist, she'd never admit to anyone that she's kind of sensitive about sharing her passion with other people.

Jesse, of course, notices this, and as hard as it is for him to admit, he's a little uneasy.

Out of the blue, Beca drops her work and walks over to the booth window, waving at Luke to meet her. He nods and gets out of his chair.

Jesse watches in slow-motion, and for a moment, he thinks back to everything Beca had hinted about Luke and her. He can feel the literal pumping of his heart as he sees what he thinks he sees.

Beca had always joked about Luke. Dating Luke, riding Luke, other Luke jokes, and with sudden clarity, Jesse feels a bit devastated. Of course, Beca would go for a guy like Luke. He's a legitimate badass, complete with tattoos, biceps, angel-cut face, and a fucking English accent. How the hell was he supposed to compete with a fucking English accent? He feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach, and with this concoction of strange emotions, he realizes that he's not a bit devastated. He's a lot devastated. Like, a whole fucking lot.

Luke peers out the door, and Beca starts talking to him, wringing her hands, clearly asking him out. Jesse doesn't even bother to eavesdrop; he just moves away and proceeds with the stacking.

...

"So, umm, sorry, I know you're, like, doing your job and all but I just kinda wanted to give you this," she pulls out a small flash drive from her pocket. "I took this job so I could, maybe, play music, so yeah. That's my music," she adds.

"Oh, okay. Cool. I'll give a listen."

"Thanks."

Well, that was easy. Beca's face is full of relief after that first. She goes back over to Jesse, whose face is completely devoid of emotion as of the moment. A strange occurrence.

"So, what's up?" she asks. Clearly, something's up.

"Whatever do you mean?" He didn't intend for that to sound so dry and sarcastic. It just did.

"I mean your face. You look... not happy. It's weird," she remarks after a Tupac CD.

"Really? Is this not my regular, Thursday face?"

She smiles at that, and to his surprise, so does he. He tries to be happy for her, at least. He thinks happy thoughts, just so he could keep up face.

"So, Luke, huh?"

"What about him?"

"Nothing, he just seems more like your type."

Beca can't help but be taken aback by that statement. "My what?"

"Aw come on, Becs. I though we were stacking buddies. If you're not gonna be honest to me about this, then at least—" he says while placing a Beatles vinyl up on the higher shelves.

"Whoa, whoa, _what_?" Her face is pure shock, and Jesse dares let himself hope. Her insulting scoff had never been more welcome to him.

"Dude," she gets out between chuckles, "I'm gonna stop you right there."

"What?"

"What, you thought me?" He nods, "and him?" He nods again.

"Yeah." _Obviously_, he thinks.

"No, man," she adamantly shakes her head, visibly semi-repulsed by the idea. "I mean, don't get me wrong, he seems great and all, but…" she shrugs her shoulders. "I don't have a type. I just don't. I think it's stupid to box yourself up to a kind of person that you'd like. If I like you, then I like you, and I'm not gonna like you for whatever kind of person you are, I'll just like you, and that's the end of it."

"Wow." Jesse feels his soul grow wings and take flight. This seems like a surreal second chance for him, and he's not about to let it go. He should ask her out.

"He did ask me out, though."

This stops Jesse mid-reach.

"The intimacy of your relationship with this man is surprising," he jests. One the inside, he is dying.

"Wasn't like that. You were out for his lunch, and he came out to invite me to a gig."

"Yeah? How was it?"

"Didn't go."

Jesse hears a chorus of baby angels singing to him. "Why not?"

She shrugs, "I don't know. People aren't exactly my thing, in case you haven't noticed."

"Oh, I noticed," he says, moving over to the desk, somewhat nearer to her, "and yet, here you are, still spending a whole lot of your time stacking CDs with _me_. Why is that?"

She gives him her second eye-squint of the day, and she notices that his smile is reaching from ear to ear.

"I think it's because I can't resist dorks," she says after throwing a CD a bit too harshly at his chest. Never mind that that was sarcastic. He'll take it. Nothing could take away this feeling right now.


	8. 8: Juice Pouches and Girlfriends

_Chapter 8: Juice Pouches and Girlfriends _

_Turn the fucking beat around. _Beca remembers SBT's fall mixer the other day, and cringes. So, Chloe's got nodes, Aubrey is more OC than ever, and she can still feel the ringing of the tiny hammers in her ears, reminding her of yesterday's remarkable failure. Again, why is she even in this mess?

She's sitting in the quad, listening to The Temper Trap mixed in with a little of David Guetta, headphones on as she drowns out the world and tries to understand the choices she's been making lately.

_Breaks on, breaks on… _she listens.

She leans back on her bag, only to notice something funky inside. Curious, she takes a look, and she pulls out a juice pouch. _What? _She looks at the foreign object in her hands, brows furrowed in an attempt to understand if it's gonna explode. _The fuck is this shi— _

There's a sticky note on it:_ "Beca, here's a juice pouch. For you. Just because we're not allowed to pick the flowers on campus. It's close enough. –J"_

Beca smiles in spite of herself. _He's such a weirdo. _She punches in the straw and takes a sip. Not bad. At least he's got originality.

Not two moments later, something shades her from the sun. She looks up to see Fat Amy mouthing something she can't hear, so she lowers her headphones.

"—with you? Unless you know, you're psychologically opposed to having seatmates."

"Sorry, what was that?"

Fat Amy doesn't repeat herself, just plops down on the grass beside Beca. They sit in comfortable silence for a while, Fat Amy taking in her surroundings and Beca sipping her juice pouch.

"So, what brings you to my little grassland?"

"Shhh," Amy replies. Beca is suddenly curious.

"What's going on?" she whispers, going along. Just then, the Treble crowd emerges from one of the nearby building exits. They're loud, laughing, and evidently _gushing _with mountain-heaps of vainglorious self-assurance. Beca's eyes dart back and forth between Amy (whose concentration is reaching record heights) and the obnoxious group of a capella demigods.

Bumper emerges from behind the crowd, taking in the sunlight and looking at everyone like they're all his subjects. He pulls out a pair of shades (_what a douchebag_) and casually strolls around. The Trebles take their time in the quad, basking in their imagined glory, while Bumper is clearly trying to show off his footwear.

Beca looks at Amy, who looks just about to burn a whole through Bumper's forehead by the sheer force of her willpower, the way she's glaring at him. Beca's eyebrows quirk up amusedly. This is some freaky shit.

As soon as Bumper sees Amy, he casually changes direction so that he would pass by them, the Trebles following suit, but keeping distance.

"Hello there," Bumper verbalizes in a mock display of cordiality, "Bellas." The last word he spits out. Amy just glares at him. (More accurately: Amy locks her razor-sharp glare with the intensity of a thousand suns.)

And the following is the most awkward moment Beca had ever witnessed: Bumper and Amy, looking at each other, not saying a word, and if she caught that correctly, it seems that Bumper is looking a little less-comfortable, as though Amy were melting him down.

_Holy fuckballs, is this what I think it is?_ Beca's eyes are saucer-large, and she takes a loud sip from her juice pouch.

Well, who would've thought? Sure, Beca's seen these two throw jests like there's no tomorrow (that one about blowing his pitch pipe will forever scar how she sees the tiny musical instrument), but she never would have seen this one coming. It's like the two of them are... doing it with their eyes. Except, hatefully. Eye-hate-sex, or something.

Good _lord_, did she just think that?

A few more antagonizing moments, and Beca has had enough.

"Hey, Bumper, aren't you late for Douchebag practice with Professor McAss?" she says. Surprisingly, Bumper backs away slowly and fully rejoins the rest of the crew, all while Amy burns him through the slits of her eyes.

Beca, of course, is more amused than ever, and she's unable to suppress a smile as she turns to look at Amy, who refuses to acknowledge the implications of Beca's cheeky grin.

"You know, there's a term for that," Beca starts, straw in mouth. "It's called sexual ten—"

Jesse comes up to them, falling away from the Trebles, and Beca is caught a bit off-guard as she lowers the juice pouch.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey," she says.

"So you got it," He points to the juice pouch.

"Yup, I got it," she says, biting the straw.

"Is this like, our thing now?"

"No."

"Can this be our thing?"

"What thing?" she laughs, amused at his antics.

"This thing! You know, it's a thing," he says. _Nice save_, Amy thinks.

"Mhmm."

She gives him an eyebrow raise (complete with her trademark I'm-mildly-amused-but-I'm-trying-so-hard-not-to-show-it smile). Jesse stands over them looking boyish and, unsure of what to do next, he just nods and walks away, still smiling to himself. Beca is smiling to herself too. In fact, she has an even bigger smile than him as she shakes her head and takes a sip form the juice pouch. She turns to Amy, who is… looking at her with a face that says _Look at you. You cheeky bastard_.

"Oh my god, what?" she counters defensively.

"You know, there's a term for that," Amy says. Revenge is sweet.

Beca rolls her eyes. They sit in silence for a while, both of them thinking about what transpired just now.

"So, he's giving you food," Amy says.

"It's a juice pouch."

"Same thing." Insert awkward moment. "So is that who you're..." And Amy makes the most inappropriate slapping gesture.

Beca visibly chokes on the juice. "What?" Amy's eyebrows go up and ask her _really? _

"Come on," Amy adds, "you just semi eye-fucked him right now, that was legitimate evidence that you are tapping that."

"Dude, no!"

"Does he sing? You know, while…" Grinding movements from Amy. "No? No funky showtunes to serenade your reaching—?"

"We're not allowed, remember?" Beca dryly says, taking a sip. Amy leans in close for her next words.

"If you haven't banged his brains out yet, that's definitely _not_ the reason," she half-whispers, and Beca is left with nothing to counter with. She thinks about asking Amy about Bumper to get back, but her mind is too preoccupied with what Amy just said.

"'Sides," Amy adds, "He's probably got a girlfriend anyway."

"Hmm." And strike two for Beca-get's-caught-off-guard.

"Yeah. Friendly guys are always the biggest dicks," Amy says as she absently reaches for Beca's juice pouch and takes a sip.

Beca has never really thought about that before now. _Girlfriend_. _Huh._ She doesn't know what to think or how to react to that, since she's not really… anything anyway.

Yeah, she's not really his anything anyway, so it would be way less messy if she just left it at that.


	9. 9: Mixes and Abs

_Chapter 9: Mixes and Abs_

Jesse is unsure what his juice pouch move earned him when he goes to work the next day. Although his insides are crawling with doubts, he remains emotionally cool, calm, and confident as he enters the station. At least, that's what he told himself in the mirror while checking his outfit for the umpteenth time before heading out.

_I gave her a juice pouch. No big deal. _He is expecting that she wouldn't be there yet, since he had left class extra early so he could greet her with a witty remark when she comes in. That would not be the case.

He sees her, already there, stacking vinyl, rolling her cart along. But instead of making his presence known, he sneaks up from behind the shelf, where his cart is, and picks out a nice cover.

_A baby's face. This should work. _He sneaks it up in front of her.

Beca is being her usual placidly cold self when she is greeted by a huge baby's face while stacking. _He is such a dork. _She gives him a plastic smile. _You think you're really funny aren't you?_

_Alright, what's good in this pile_, Jesse thinks. _Ooh, Adam Lambert, can't go wrong with that_.

This time, Jesse's face and arm fit the image so well, and Beca can't help but really grin at the picture. His smile wakes her up, and she wipes the grin from her face and raises her eyebrows. _Shut up, Beca. Shut up. Don't encourage him._

Jesse can see the breaks through her armor. _Oh, look, _he thinks, as he feels her face mellow at his antics, causing his heart to do a little dance. He picks out a huge eyeball from the stack.

Beca can't help it. This guy is such a goofball. She keeps down a laugh, her eyes crinkling at the effort.

Jesse's pops out from the behind the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. He loves it when he gets to make Beca laugh in spite of herself. It's like winning the lottery every time, like being the only one to break Beca's secret pact against humanity to never be happy.

Beca's mind is temporarily distracted from Bella practices, mixes, and other thoughts, because of Jesse. _Whatever, _she thinks. He makes a silly face from behind Ted Nugen and she gives him another one of her patented looks. _Dork._

(She loves it though, but her dignity meter is increasingly lowering around him, and she's not gonna admit that.)

Luke sees their little wordless banter and calls out. "Jesse?"

_Great timing, man_, Jesse thinks. "Yeah?"

"I'm starving so could you…"

"You want me to get you lunch?" _Get it the fuck yourself._

Luke nods.

"You should probably lay off the burgers. You're not gonna be twenty-two forever, you know," Jesse comments. _Also, go to hell._

Luke lifts up his shirt to reveal a nicely chiseled pack of six. "I think I'm good."

Beca can't help but admire the musculature. _Damn son. _"He's good. You're good."

"And the chess match continues," Jesse finally says, as he sets off to get Luke's fucking lunch. But not before he sneaks a juice pouch in Beca's bag.

_Real clever, Luke. But I'm the one with the juice pouches. _He consoles himself as he goes out to fetch food.

…

Coming back with Luke's lunch (which he messes up on purpose), Jesse feels his heart do a double take as he sees Beca sipping from the juice pouch that he had sneaked in her bag. _Win_.

"Hey," she greets while sorting.

"Hey." He gives Luke his lunch, and goes back to the shelves.

"Why do you have to always sneak these in my bag," she says, between sips, "Why don't you just give it to me?"

"Well," Jesse sits on the desk, a habit that he's acquired, "where's the romance in that?"

_Eye-squint, plastic smile, eye-roll, and a little bit of laughter_, Jesse figures.

Beca can't help it if Jesse looks at her with adoring eyes. She is suddenly aware of the funny feeling her stomach gets when his huge brown optic receptors (_seriously, they are colossal_) work their magic and make her feel all girly and gross...

_Goddamnit Beca. Get your shit together. _On to other thoughts…

She mentally sighs, looking at the booth. She's been giving Luke a lot of her mixes, it's becoming a real bum to have to keep on buying flash drives every time. She sighs again, this time audibly.

"That huff sounds ominous," Jesse comments after a Mariah Carey vinyl. When Beca keeps looking at the booth, Jesse ventures a little bit further.

"You know, if you really like him that much, I want you to know that you have my blessing," Jesse says. This is a complete and utter lie.

"I've given him some of my mixes," she replies.

"And?"

"And nothing. I don't think he's heard any of them. I mean, that's cool. He's busy. Whatever."

"Ouch, Beca."

"What?" Beca looks at him, and he's clutching his heart and doing a soap-operatic impression of a tortured soul.

"Do you mean he's heard your music before me?" His face is the perfect picture of faux disbelief.

She rolls her eyes. (Because Beca has run out of expressions to convey pleasant annoyance.)

"Beca," he does his best 'hurt' voice. "I can't believe this."

He jumps down from the desk and goes next to her with a fresh stack of CDs in his hands. "I really thought we were friends."

She hits him on the arm. The fact that she registers his stern muscles is nobody's business.

"Seriously though," he continues, "You should let me hear some of your work."

"Why is that?"

His expression softens at her. _She's really picky about this, isn't she?_

"So I can tell you the truth about how amazing you really are," he replies. While Beca is outwardly showing the coolest of cools about this, she finds that really sweet of him to say.

"But of course," he adds, "I mean, I'd understand if you don't wanna show it. If it really sucks then it should probably never see the light of—"

This garners him a punch to the gut. And while Beca would rather die than admit it, and she would rather die a _thousand painful deaths_ than admit it, she's taken to considering him one of her closest friends. Maybe it is about time to share a bit more of herself.


	10. 10: Picnic at the Quad

_Chapter 10: Picnic at the Quad_

"Hey," Beca says. Her warm voice is the only thing on Jesse's mind right now.

"Umm, hey," Jesse replies. They are sitting on his bed, and he is only slightly aware of the fact that she is leaning in a little too close, her breath a little too warm on his lips, and her hands…

…are now riding up the hem of his shirt. _What the—_

He stands up from his bed.

"What are you doing, Beca?"

"What?"

Jesse's mind races to form an answer before his hormones take over. _This isn't supposed to be like this_, he thinks.

*clang*

* * *

Jesse wakes to the sound of clanging. His eyes blink for a while before he realizes that Benji is on the other side of the room, trying to dislodge a… sword. From the wall. With another sword.

Jesse doesn't blink twice. He's woken up to much stranger things with Benji around.

"You need help with that?" he offers, as he sits up on his bed, the thought of his dream lost.

Benji turns around, complete with cape and a saber tucked into his belt.

"Oh hey. You're awake."

"What can I say, I can't resist the sound of sharp metal in the morning."

After trying out several objects (leather, plastic, glass, etc.) to dislodge the hanging piece of metal, Jesse and Benji give up. They take a step back and try to find artistic meaning in the slight destruction of semi-public property that occurred while Benji was practicing a magic trick. How was he supposed to know that sword was actually sharp?

"I'm gonna lose my scholarship over this," Benji says.

"I won't tell if you won't," Jesse mentions. They stand back for a while, absorbing the artistic revelation emanating from the sword sticking out of their wall.

"So, what possessed you to do… whatever it is that caused this?" Jesse says, motioning to the over-all wall. He is genuinely curious about the exact kind of magic trick Benji was attempting while Jesse was asleep. _They should probably have a talk about this…_

Benji's face immediately flushes. "Oh, it's nothing."

"Hey, come on, man. Try me. I can take it."

"Okay," Benji says bashfully. "It's actually for a girl."

Jesse's eyebrows shoot up in a non-threatening way. _This is really interesting. _

"Oh? Good for you!" He slaps Benji on the back. _Finally_, he thinks, really happy for his friend.

"No, no, it's not like that. I haven't even gotten her to notice me," Benji mourns.

Welp. Jesse can't help but feel for him. They both sit on the edge of Benji's bed, thinking about their respective unrequited admirations.

Beca's amazing. She's raw, honest, she knows what she wants (in most everything, anyway). And Jesse can't help but think about whether or not she likes him. And whether or not she knows that he likes her. Like, a lot. So far, she hasn't exactly been extremely vocal (or even slightly vocal) about any possibility for mutualism. And as much as Jesse respects her for… whatever it is that she wants to see him as, he can't help but wish she would be slightly more… illuminating with her words and actions. Because right now, he's at a complete lost. And he doesn't want wake up one day to find out that someone had beaten him to confessing their undying love for the one girl he's set his eyes on since the first day.

"Hey," Jesse turns to Benji, "how do you think I should go about with this girl that I wanna impress?"

Benji looks lost as to why on earth someone would even ask him that, but he does have a few spare sheets and a candle.

* * *

Beca is staring at the blank screen of her computer. She's just finished a mix, which included her own singing voice. A mix that she was inspired to create after Jesse had asked her if he could listen to some of her work. She had convinced herself that it's not big deal, inspiration hits when it wants to hit. This is not _for_ Jesse, this is _because of _Jesse. Nothing wrong with that, right?

"What's up, weirdo?" she hears, before she barely has time to reflexively catch a tossed juice pouch with an "okay".

Jesse lays down a blue blanket that he had quite literally been carrying around. She watches him settle beside her, while she opens her juice pouch. Even though it's unspoken between the two of them, juice pouches have, indeed, become their 'thing'.

"What's this?"

"As much as I love spending time with you stacking CDs—and I do, I love it, like, more than life—" he says, while taking out a huge-ass candle from his bag, "I figured we could do some other fun things that don't make us wanna kill ourselves, right? So, brought some movies…"

She watches him effortless glide into her present situation with such finesse that it seems as though he had been with her there, all along.

_Probably a trick he picked up while being so in love with his girlfriend, _a voice in her head said, sounding suspiciously like Fat Amy.

"…Best scored and sountracked movies of all time. That's what I wanna do when I grow up. I wanna score movies…"

She smiles at him, even though she's not really super familiar with any of the movies he just mentioned. Still, she notices that it's one more thing she knows about him, and she mentally files that little fact away.

_For future reference, _she justifies.

"…I feel like only music can do that."

_Here's an opening. Take it._

"Yeah," she says, "you must really sweep your girlfriend off her feet." She really meant it as a sarcastic joke, doesn't even overthink it, but it's really her subconscious attempting to gauge her relationship with this guy who just set up a picnic for her.

"Oh, I don't have a girlfriend."

"What?"

"No."

"You have juice pouches and Rocky!" she doesn't even try to hide how it comes out as an insulting smirk. It is rather silly, she thinks, that this great guy, who is the embodiment of cheesy, would not have a girlfriend.

"Okay," he says, changing the subject, "what do you wanna watch first?"

"Can we do something else? We could relive my parents' divorce. Or visit a gynecologist."

"What, do you not like movies, or something?"

She sips her juice pouch in response.

"Like any movies?"

She gives this smile-laugh.

"What the hell is wrong with you? How do you not like movies? Not liking movies is like not liking… puppies."

Jesse could not have guessed this one quirk about Beca, but at the same time, he thinks this is great progress. He is visibly distressed by how she seems to have a distaste for endings, and how she just happens to know German ("'Vader' in German means father."), but all these things are what he really loves about her. She always manages to surprise him, and knowing this about her is something he really takes to heart.

"You know, you need a movie education," he resolves. "You need a movie-cation. And I'm gonna give it to you."

"Yeah, in between Bella rehearsals, which are _always_," she quips. Which reminds him…

"Are you guys getting ready for the Riff-Offs?"

"What the hell is a Riff-Off?"


	11. 11: The Riff-Offs

_Chapter 11: The Riff-Offs_

_This is pretty cool._

Beca thinks to herself as the Bellas arrive at the empty pool, soon to be the stage for the much-awaited Riff-Offs. She can see other, non aca-people gathering, and the Trebles are already warming up their vocal chords by dissing the other groups. The energy is intense, and Aubrey is clearly freaking the fuck out, even though she tries really hard not to show it.

The Bellas take their place on one corner of the pool, as she sees Jesse on the other corner, smiling at her with a wicked grin.

Jesse is feeling really good with the Trebles tonight. He feels excited, elated, and it has a lot to do with the fact that this is his game, and he's really good at it. Also, the fact that Beca is there to hear him sing again really helps pump him up.

"Who d'you think is the cutest Treble?" Beca hears Stacie ask Ashley.

"They're all jerks," Cynthia Rose remarks.

Almost all of the Bellas are new to this, and they're feeling their way around like a bunch of lost puppies. She hears a lot of comments about a lot of things ("Bumper's annoying", "Donald is kinda hot", "My boobs hurt, I feel like this means something", "What's that smell?"), but she can't help but look at the Trebles, the mortal enemies, cool as chilled fucking cucumbers. _Interesting, _she thinks. This is gonna be one hell of a night…

"Hit it!"

As soon as the BU Harmonics start the siren, everyone claps and cheers, and it's game time.

"Welcome to the Riff-Offs!" The crowd goes wild. "Who's ready to get vocal?" says Justin the Announcer, and all the groups scream their lungs out… except the Trebles. They're too cool for that.

Beca's arms remain crossed in front of her as Jesse communicates with her from across the pool.

"I'm gonna take you down."

"I don't care."

"Fair enough." Beca is trying to keep the energy in the air from creeping into her bones, but her fellow Bellas, Jesse, and the damned competition is keeping her from playing it cool.

"Our first category is…"

In the next moments, Beca sees the heightened pressure as the two main players, the Bellas and the Trebles (more like Aubrey and Bumper), tense up.

"…Ladies of the 80's!"

Aubrey and some of the Trebles race to the center of the pool and…

Stomp, clap. Stomp, stomp clap.

"_Oh Mickey, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind, Hey Mickey! Hey Mickey!_"

The rest of the Trebles join the first four, and Beca raises her eyebrows at the display. _This is music._ This is real music from the 'lame' a capella bands that she once rolled her eyes over. She can't help but be absolutely fascinated. Not to mention, Jesse bobbing up and down like a kid at Christmas.

"_Oh Mickey, you're so—_"

"_You're so fine, and you're mine. I'll be yours till the end of time_…" The BU Harmonics take the stage after Baloney Barb shushes the entire Treblemakers. _Oh, well that's something_, Beca thinks. She's never seen anything quite like this. Live music from live groups of people, live mixing of different songs. No script, no cues, take it or leave it.

The rest of the BU Harmonics joins in one by one, "_Ooh, you make me feel so shiny and new_…"

Suddenly, Aubrey thinks of something. "Okay guys, follow my lead."

"…_touched for the very first time—"_

"_Like the one in me, that's okay_…." Aubrey tunes with a flick of her wrist. The girls nod their assent to the song that Beca has no clue of.

"…_Put up your dukes, let's get down to it_!" Aubrey says, before the rest of the girls join in.

"_Hit me with your best shot. Why don't you hit me with your best shot_?" Since Beca doesn't know the song, she keeps her distance and lets the girls take over. The BU Harmonics move out of the center, while Bumper makes a disgusted face at the classic song.

"_Fire away_—"

"_Ey_…" a Highnoter interrupts them. "_It must've been love_," she sings. "_But it's over now_…"

The crowd laughs, and it's the end of this category when Justin the Announcer calls the Highnotes (clap clap) 'cut off'.

"Let's check out our next category…"

"So we just pick any song that works?" Beca asks Chloe. "And you just go with it? Nice." Beca understands now. So this is the Riff-Offs: a high-stakes, live, a capella showdown.

"…Songs about Sex!" Justin declares. Though Aubrey freaks a bit, the Trebles' overconfidence gets the best of them, as Cynthia Rose beats Donald to the stage.

"_Na na na, come on. Na na na na na, come on, come on, come on_…" Cynthia Rose's raspy voice echoes clearly through the air, and the rest of the Bellas join her in near perfect harmony. Beca stays at the back because she's just getting the feel of this, as Stacie walks up to where Cynthia Rose is basically owning Donald.

"_Cause I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it_…" Stacie and Cynthia Rose grind against each other, making for a really good show. The Bellas have their game on as the rest of the group gain the confidence to groove along, harmonizing perfectly.

"I got this, man," Jesse hears Donald tell him, as he walks up to the center and silences Stacie, who is either trying to intimidate him or eye-fuck him by her movements. Or both.

"_Sex, baby. Let's talk about you and me_…" the rest of the Trebles join in. "_Let's talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be_…" They're not called the Bad Boys of A Capella for nothing.

Aubrey pulls Stacie away, but she protests. "Wait, Aubrey, I can do this. I have another one…"

"_Let's talk about sex baby_—"

"_Baby all through the night I'll make love to you_…" Stacie nearly palms Donald's chest.

"_Like you want me to_…" Fat Amy chimes in.

(This isn't about the Hoobastank mic anymore, Beca realizes. She feels an itch to get her game on, when Jesse find an in...)

"_And I_—"

"_And I guess it's just the woman in you_," he cuts, "_that brings out the man in me_." The Bellas groan, but he affectionately points to Beca. _This is for you._

She rolls her eyes. _You think you're really clever, don't you?_

"_I know I can't help myself. You're all in the world to me…"_

The Trebles have now begun to sing the song full out, perfect harmonies, while Jesse milks it for all that it is. His eyes are directed at her, clearly reveling in the irony of the situation. _They're winning, but hey, at least they're winning by singing a song directed to you,_ Beca thinks to herself. _The bastards. _She blows him a sarcastic kiss.

"_It feels like the first time. It feels like the very first time…" _When Jesse starts moving his jacket to taunt her, _That is it._

She bites her lip, her nerves tingling as she runs up to him. _Okay, you want game? I'll give you game._

"_It feels like this first time_—"

"_It's going down, fade to Blackstreet, the homies got RB collab creations, bump like acne, no doubt, I put it down, never slouch, as long as my credit could vouch a dog couldn't catch me straight up_…"

Beca spews out the rap lyrics like a veteran, silencing the entire crowd. Jesse doesn't even try to hide a gasp as he backs away and lets her have the stage. _Whoa._

"_Tell me who can stop when Dre makin' moves attracting honeys like magnet giving them eargasms with my mellow accent…"_

Jesse cannot believe his eyes, or ears.

"_Still movin' this flavor, with my homies Blacksteet and Teddy, the original rump shakers…"_

The Treble faces are nowhere near comprehension, and everyone is silent for a beat. Beca is giddy with the lyrics at the tip of her tongue, and Jesse feels the adoration in him bubble up with how cute she looks when rapping.

"Keep going," he coaxes. Beca's face is almost literally lighting up as she turns to the Bellas, who are still trying to process the situation.

"_Shawty get down, good lord…"_

Jesse's eyes grow large as he feels her melody brush against the hairs at the back of his neck. _Holy shit._

"_Baby got 'em open all over town," _she continues.

"_Strictly biz, she don't play around, cover much ground, got game by the pound…"_

"_Mhmm," _the Bellas start to harmonize, as Beca turns towards them to guide them. Jesse's mind is blank, and the other Trebles look positively bewildered as the Bellas build on each other to school their sorry asses.

"_I can't get her out of my mind, _(Fat Amy throws Bumper the finger. Burn_._)_ I think about the girl all the ti-ii-iime…" _Beca turns around to face Jesse. _Payback, bitches_.

"_I like the way your work it."_

"_No diggity."_

"_I gotta bag it up, baby," _she sings, looking at Jesse with a smirk, and it's all she can do from Z-snapping his face.

Jesse is captivated by this magical creature before him, rapping and singing a soulful melody, and his heart is melting with every quarter note. He subconsciously starts to bob his head at the tune, which is a no-no for the Trebles, but really, who can help it? The whole crowd gets animated as they start chiming in.

Beca goes around, amazed at what she just started. People are listening to her make music with the Bellas, cheering her on and going along, and she's never felt more wonderful in her life.

"_I like the way you work it (no diggity), I gotta bag it up. We out,"_ she finishes strong, and Jesse can't help but be so damned impressed.

Every single one of the Bellas is thinking the same thing: _Bitches got owned._

"I mean, you're welcome," Beca adds. The crowd is ballistic.

Jesse smiles to himself. _Is this love?_

Their celebration is short-lived, however, as Justin the Announcer cuts them off (clap clap) with a mere technicality. The Bellas are so pissed, and Aubrey looks just about to burn the whole fucking place to the ground.

"Are you serious?" Beca is not liking the news either.

"The Trebles win!" And the crowd goes wild. Again.

"Oh! Beca, I'm sorry, it was awesome," Jesse calls after her amidst the noise. Of course Jesse likes the win. This is his world, and he'd be damned if he didn't like the feel of triumph. Still, as much as his energy is poured into the moment, his mental faculties keep replaying Beca's voice.

He steels a glance back at her as the Trebles are off with their merrymaking, and suddenly, with the Trebles isn't where he wants to be right now.

"I've never heard that rule! Ladies, ladies, come on. Come back," Aubrey says as she ushers a sorely devastated group of Bellas away from the wild winners. Bumper, however, manages to still brag to Amy, patting each of her boobs with their microphone prize.

"Before everybody goes to bed tonight, I need you to make a list of everything you did wrong," Aubrey says to her Bellas. Beca is sure she's directing that comment to her.

"I'm gonna melt that Cabbage Patch kid," Amy joins them with eyes filled with vengeance.

Though a bit upset that they didn't win, Beca knows that what they pulled off was, for all intents and purposes, one hell of a set. They were brilliant, then were fucking fantastic, and to hell with the winning; it was the first time that Beca realizes that these girls are talented. They are all talented. And she could really make something of this.

"Guys, what we just did was great, right?" she asks them.

"Calm your pits, Beca. We still lost." Aubrey is the queen of negative.

"Yeah, but it was spontaneous. It was awesome. We were actually listening to—"

But Aubrey cuts her off. She swears to god, that megabitch is testing her with everything she's got. They try a hands-in, but it just won't. It's just not their night tonight. As the crowd disperses and they all head back, Beca sees Jesse leaning by the poolside, waiting for her.

"Whoa, hey there, gangster," he says to her, suddenly coming up to walk alongside. "Smooth moves back there."

"Thanks, I was totally thinking about you the whole time."

His mind goes a bit blank at that, and he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. _Keep it cool, man._

She saves him by laughing a bit and shaking her head. It's sarcastic. She is being sarcastic.

They walk back out together, each taking home a new understanding from the night's events.


	12. 12: Star Wars Advice

_Chapter 12: Star Wars Advice_

"_I like the way you work it (no diggity), I gotta bag it up..."_

Jesse has replaced his usual Danny Elfman and Hans Zimmer with Blackstreet, listening to the rap that Beca had so skillfully pulled out of thin air some two nights ago. Jesse had a 'rap phase' once, so he is able to appreciate the fast lyrics and tune, earphones in while working at the station.

He is trying for something different this time…

* * *

"_You need to look cool, you know," Kolio had told him one time during practice. "Be emotionally distant."_

"_Yeah, that chick is probably sick of you dropping by with juice pouches all the time," Unicycle teases him. Jesse smiles sheepishly. Of course the Trebles would notice. He spends a lot of time around them, why wouldn't they? So Jesse had asked them about what next to do with Beca, after practice, and everyone seems to have their own ideas about it._

"_Are you sure she doesn't, you know, *like* other chicks?" Donald asks._

_Based on the way she was looking at Luke? Nope, definitely not. "No, I don't think so."_

"_Wait, aren't you already hitting that?"_

"_Yeah, I thought so to."_

_A lot of the other guys are in agreement, thinking that Jesse had already been, or is already with, Beca, but Jesse just shakes his head vehemently._

"_Naw, man. She's not like that."_

"_So you never…" Donald asks him._

"_Nope."_

"_Not even a little…"_

"_Not even. She's just… it's the thing with her. I don't wanna scare her off, you know. I feel like, if I do something weird or creepy, she's just gonna run away." Jesse looks sad about this, and his fellow Trebles feel for him._

"_Weird or creepy? What do you call stalking her and giving her juice pouches?" Bumper adds. He joins the small huddle that had begun to form around Jesse._

"_Look man, you gotta step your game up," he says. "That chick, as much as I disdain to say this, *is fine*— maybe a little on the wild side—but she's not gonna be on the shelves forever." The other Trebles give their assent. He gives Jesse an eyebrow waggle (but also winks at Donald… and a few other Trebles) as he takes a drink. And then his phone goes off._

"_Anyway," Bumper closes his flip phone. "Gotta run. I'll see you dogs at practice tomorrow."_

* * *

So here he is, stacking CDs and vinyl with Beca, trying his best to look 'emotionally distant'.

_It's not working, _he thinks, as he stacks Celine Dion on the higher shelves. He usually gets the A-Fs, since those belong to the upper shelves, the ones that Beca can't reach. But that doesn't matter right now. _Because she doesn't even notice me, _he thinks.

So he stacks absent-mindedly, earphones in, trying to drown out the uncertainty that is feeding at him, when he gets a little distracted by a sliver of Beca's midsection, peaking at him through the shelves while she attempts to reach up to replace The Corrs, her shirt riding up a little bit as she stands on a chair.

_Look away, _a voice tells him, and he does. He looks away and even moves to the desk to get some more CDs.

_It's not working, _Beca thinks, as she fails to reach high enough to put The Corrs back in place. Jesse hasn't said a word to her since he got in, and not even her abdomen had been able to coax him to annoy her. Her dork is being uncharacteristically un-chipper today, and she's not used to it.

(She will ignore how she just thought of him as _her_ dork.)

Jesse successfully manages to get her sexy stomach out of his mind (_Keep it together man. Be cool. Be cool._) as he changes his music to a more recognizable tune: a Star Wars theme cover by The Piano Guys. Excellent cover, he thinks, as he refuses to even glance at Beca when she joins him by the desk for more CDs.

Which is why, when Beca removes her jacket revealing a Star Wars print at the back, Jesse's jaw drops.

_She's wearing Star Wars. _

She had turned around to face the shelves, and Jesse engages in a heated debate. _Talk to her, call her out on it. No man, be cool, remember? Come on, she's wearing Star Wars, for fucks sake. Hey, don't be a clingy—_

"Huh. Star Wars," Jesse suddenly blurts out, startling Beca a bit. She turns around to a dazed Jesse. "Sorry, what?" she asks.

Jesse internally facepalms. _Stupid brain._

"Um, nothing," he says. There is nothing wrong with him, really. It's just, the effect she has on him. That's all. No big deal. He goes back to listening to Blackstreet because he gives up.

_Goddamnit, _Beca thinks. If the Star Wars thing didn't catch his eye, then what the hell—

Jesse bobs his head and barely notices Beca come up to him. Her wrist is suddenly across his face as she reaches over and plucks out one earbud, placing it in her own ear. Her face brightens up mockingly when she recognizes the song.

"_You_ listen to Blackstreet?" she insults.

"Hey, don't judge a musician by his music," he says, suddenly aware of how light he feels.

She gives him back his earbud with an insulting face and gets to work beside him. Jesse bites his lower lip.

_This girl will be the death of me._

"I like your shirt," he says out of nowhere, and she looks at him, immediately getting the _you-know-what-I-mean _look he has.

"What, this old thing? Had it for, like, five years. Just saw it today." Beca did, in fact, own a Star Wars shirt, and she wore it today _not_ because of Jesse. But she's glad she did anyway.

"Five years?"

"Yeah," she says, going over to one of the shelves. "I don't exactly grow. It's a bad habit."

He is staring at her now, holding back a laugh. He remembers Benji's advice…

* * *

"_I don't really know why you're asking me that," he had said, "but I believe in being yourself to everyone. In any relationship." Benji had told him after their failed attempt to pull out the sword in the wall._

"_That's good advice," Jesse had said._

"_Yeah. I mean, what are you into? Maybe you could find some common ground. Get to know each other a bit."_

"_Yeah. Yeah, that's a good idea."_

_Benji suddenly thinks of something. "How about a picnic?"_

* * *

Jesse remembers his friend's words, and he gets a thought of his own.

"So have you ever actually seen Star Wars?" he asks her.

"Not sure, they all look the same to me. The sci-fi movies, I mean."

Jesse's eyebrows shoot up. _The audacity..._

"So, first up in your movie-cation, I was thinking maybe we could start with 'A New Hope', part four, Star Wars, maybe get you into shape before your first marathon—"

"No thanks," she laughs.

"Why not?"

"I think I've seen that already. I just didn't finish it."

Jesse had already figured as much, but it doesn't stop him from getting a mini cardiac arrest from someone _not finishing A New Hope. _

"Okay. Something else then."

"Surprise me," she says. "Just, make sure it's interesting."

"Of course. Wouldn't wanna disappoint such an avid film-goer," he jokes. She gives him a mocking frowny-smile that means she's not gonna answer that.

"So it's a date?"

"Don't get your hopes up."

"Alright," he smiles. But his hopes are already up. In fact, they are so up, that he starts to go through all the possible movies they could watch, until he finally comes at a match. The perfect movie with the perfect music, something they could both share. He smiles brightly at the thought, a new hope bubbling up inside.

* * *

**AN**: A few notes...

The Star Wars thing is a headcanon of mine _from other fics_. A lot of other talented writers have incorporated it into their stories, and it is by no means unique to this fic. Just getting this out there. :)

MUSIC: No Diggity - Blackstreet; Cello Wars - The Piano Guys (Star Wars Theme cover)

MOVIES: Star Wars: A New Hope (1977)


	13. 13: The Breakfast Club Ending

_Chapter 13: The Breakfast Club Ending_

Beca is in her dorm, minding her own music, when she hears a knock at the door. Must be Kimmy Jin. But Kimmy Jin doesn't knock. So Beca stands up to get it, curious.

"Hey, Kimmy—you're not Kimmy Jin."

"I don't think so… last I checked," Jesse answers.

"Um, hi?"

"Hi… yeah sorry, I know this is weird, me showing up at your dorm and all," he says, peering inside a little bit. "I know how I always pop up without introduction, and I don't wanna overstep my bounds, so," he smiles sheepishly, "can I come in?"

Beca tries hard not to laugh. _Overstep your bounds? Really? _She looks at his huge smile and huge eyes and he's being all meek and nice and it's weird but really cute. (Did she just think 'cute'? Oh, wow, she did.)

"Sorry, are you busy?"

"You overstepped your bounds a long time ago, but I'm not busy, so…" she steps aside to let him in, smiling. _He's visiting me in my dorm, _she thinks. (She hates how she finds that super sweet.) He comes in, and she notices that he's carrying a laptop and a DVD._ So that's what this is..._

Well, now. She didn't expect him to _actually _follow through with that stupid movication thingo. Guys say stuff like that all the time, right? It's not like he's any different...

The first thing he notices is the multiple screens open, and her headphones leaking a funky beat.

"Hey, I thought you weren't busy?"

"I'm not, I'm just finishing up."

"Cool." He stands there, a little too awkward to do anything else.

"Here, I'll show you," Beca offers. She takes a seat by her computer and puts her headphones on. She clicks on the mix that she had made for/because of him, listening to her handiwork.

"So, uh, I just find songs that have the same chord progressions and create a track that blends them together. So, like," she points to a section of the screen as Jesse sits across her, "this is the new bass line, and this is matching up downbeats."

Beca struggles to get her words out because she can't hear a thing. She purposefully bought headphones that allowed her to shut the world out. Jesse, on the other hand, is staring at her, nodding at what she says. _She's sharing her music with me, _he thinks. (He didn't even come here for that, but he really appreciates it anyway. And it's adorable how she's talking really loud right now.)

Beca removes her headphones, "Oh, I'm talking really loud." He nods at that. _You're also really cute._

"Um, that's me singing," she says as she hands him her headphones to listen to the track that she made. For him. She wants him to like it, in the same way that she wants this to work. _This. _What is _this_ anyway?

"This is really good," he says, a little too loudly.

He said that loudly, on purpose. She just knows it. And she realizes that he is _different. _On a whole other level of _different _from the kind of people she's used to.

"That is amazing, Beca."

And he looks at her with those beautiful eyes. For the first time, she feels her heart skip a beat. He really does adore her. He also understands her passion for music, and he shares it.

"Thanks," she says. _Thanks for… a lot of things. _

"So, I brought this over because I wanna watch you watch the end of this movie." He shows her The Breakfast Club DVD he had brought with him, and she tries to look enthused. She had never been one for movies (old or new ones), but clearly, he is determined to make her change her mind about them.

"Then I can die a hero." He goes over to her bed and sets everything up. Beca can't help but admire how he always seems to settle down around her. She's used to people backing away from her because, let's face it, she purposefully tries to scare them away. It's a defense mechanism, something she's always used to her advantage when relationships became too complicated. She seems like she hates people, and in turn, people learn to stay away from her.

_But not Jesse._

"You have a habit of making yourself at home, did you know that?"

"Yeah," he says, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He motions for her to come watch with him. Beca obliges him and sits. _This time only, _she tells herself. _This one time only._

He shuts the lights and starts his very own personal commentary about the movie.

"Okay. The Breakfast Club, 1985. Greatest ending to any movie, ever. This song launched simple minds in the US…"

Beca's eyes are on the screen, she hears what he's saying, but her mind can't help but admire how he is so into this right now. It's like seeing a different side of the goofball she spends time stacking with, like seeing a whole other aspect of him, the part of him that is as passionate about movies as she is with her music.

"That is fascinating."

"Right?"

"Tell me, what does Judd Nelson eat for breakfast?"

"Well, like all misunderstood rebels, he feeds on hypocrisy."

"Sure."

"And black coffee to help with his morning dumps."

_That is so him._ "You're an idiot."

"It's true. I'm full of fun facts."

The voice-over in the movie is a little bit overly melodramatic to her, but Jesse seems to be really affected by it. She vaguely registers something about athletes and criminals when she gets distracted by Jesse mouthing the lines himself.

"_Sincerely yours, The Breakfast Club,_" the movie says, as he fists his hand along with Judd Nelson. She finds him so interesting, the way he's so absorbed. _He has a funny-looking mouth, _she thinks. It's shaped like a heart… but it's not. Sort of.

Simple Minds starts singing, and he notices her staring at him.

* * *

"You're missing the ending," he turns to her, and stops.

_She really is insanely beautiful, _he thinks_. _And talented, and amazing. And he has never been more attracted in his life. He feels a sudden, unnamable emotion in his gut as he stares at her lips.

"_Don't you forget about me..."_

The lyrics of the song are lost to him as he leans in closer…

* * *

Beca shifts her eyes back to the screen, but she can feel his eyes on her. That's probably the cause of the heat that she can feel building up on the side of her neck. She turns to him, and her mind registers how he is looking at her...

She's not used to this at all, and her brain is weighing two options. Part of her is in an uncomfortable situation. She likes him, she really does, but at the same time... _She doesn't know if she wants this. _Beca isn't even sure what she means by 'this', but Jesse is staring at her... his eyes drop to her lips.

(She ignores the impending, unequivocal attraction she feels towards him, because she is the _queen_ of ignorance.)

Option two: _Fuck him on his laptop right now. _

(And it's true. She would nail him, but she doesn't want to think about the _why. _Because the implications of _this _between them is _terrifying._)

_No_. _He doesn't deserve that_. She pulls back.

And she knows that it must've hurt him, because all she feels is the heavy weight of awkward and discomfort that the situation has brought upon them. She pauses the movie, shifting in her seat.

"It's good. I'm sure the beginning is—"

Kimmy Jin comes in with two of her friends. "The white girl is back," she says.

* * *

Jesse wants to crawl into a hole and _die_.

To preserve some of his dignity, he will chalk it up to his idiotic teenage hormones, and the fact that the two of them had been spending an awfully insane amount of time together. And the emotionality of his favorite movie didn't help with the circumstances. It felt like something he should go with, at the moment. It felt... _right._

But apparently, the feeling is _not _mutual. _Well, that answers that._

"And I'm out," he says, gathering up his things (including his shattered heart). "Always a pleasure, Kimmy Jin"

Beca watches him go, and she feels sorry, so sorry for how it just went between them. He nods to her, finding no words to fill up the strange empty feeling he's left with. Beca sees how much this implied rejection affects him, and this is the first she's ever seen him so vulnerable.

She doesn't like it. Not one bit. Jesse isn't the vulnerable kind. She has, time and again, thrown him a myriad of insults and mocking stares, always the one ready with pushing him away. And every time, he comes right back. But, perhaps, not this time.

She has never seen him like this. She feels a sudden, unnamable emotion in her gut as she sees him completely speechless, for the first time.

It's at this moment that she realizes she cares about him, too. Like, a lot. She doesn't want to lose _this_. (She doesn't want to lose him.)

_Damnit_. She's gonna make it up him.


	14. 14: Lunch Tape

_Chapter 14: Lunch Tape_

Jesse slides his tray beside Donald's. Out of all the Trebles, Jesse has found that the one he could get along with the most is the resident rapper of the group. Although he loves being a part of them, they're not exactly... sane all the time. He and Donald have barely had a full conversation, but Donald could keep up with all of Jesse's set and song suggestions, and even though Bumper is the 'leader' of the group, they're both the brains of the organization, and they keep things running and working for the Trebles.

It's been two days since the incident in Beca's dorm, and he has tried his best to maintain a casual attitude about all of it. Eating lunch with Donald and Benji allows him to gather his thoughts before having to go to class/avoid Beca/go to class _and _avoid Beca.

It's been tough, not going to the station and just... wallowing in his stupidity. It was one of those moments that he wanted to jump off a building for (he actually dreamt about that once), and he's not sure how to fix it.

_It's my fault, _he thinks, as he aggressively picks at a pea on his plate.

Benji and Donald notice his intense concentration, his brows furrowed in irritation, his eyes showing his lack of sleep. When he tries too hard and sends a pea flying, they decide to speak up.

"Hey man, are you okay?"

"Yeah, what did the peas ever do to you?"

Jesse glances up from his mental self-torture to find his two lunchmates looking at him oddly. He looks down at his plate to see pea-paste, evidence of a mind in turmoil.

"I'm sorry," he resignedly says. He's suddenly lost the appetite for everything. Donald and Benji get the sense that something really important is bothering him, but both are not quite sure how to ask him about it. They try to figure out what's going on when they see Stacie walking up to them, holding something.

"Hey, Jesse," she says. He looks up at her. She's tall and thin and dressed so much like a model-stripper pop star that Benji can't help but avert his eyes, his cheeks going all tomato.

"This is for you." She slides Jesse a CD case with a note on it.

("Hey, Donald," she winks. Donald opens his mouth to say something, but thinks better of it. Probably best not to encourage the she-tiger. Or the.. erm... _hunter. _He's heard rumors. Scary shit.)

Jesse takes a look at the CD she gave him and reads the note: "These are my new mixes, plus a bunch of other songs. I have a feeling you'd appreciate them better than Luke would. –B"

He smiles. _Maybe not all hope is lost..._

He trains his eyes to where Stacie might have gone, in the general direction where she _would _go, but he does not find the girl that he was looking for.

* * *

In the other corner of the cafeteria, Beca hurries to finish her chicken, clear her plate, and go. She doesn't want to be around to see Jesse's disappointed face when Stacie hands him her CD. She recalls his look when she had pulled away, and while she doesn't regret it (ish... maybe... a bit...), she can't help but feel really guilty.

_See, Beca. This is exactly why we try to avoid these kinds of things, _she hears her subconscious say to her. _You got too close, and you burned someone. _

She swats the thoughts away as she cleans her tray up, the other Bellas following suit as Stacie walks back to them.

Beca wants things to be right with them, to go back to the way they were, but then again, she... doesn't? Fuck, it's all a mess that Beca would sooner bury under Aubrey's heaping pile of evil rather than deal with. _I don't owe him anything, _she convinces herself. And of course she doesn't. When has Jesse ever acted like she owed him a thing in her life? He's always been the supportive, annoying dork who worked with her almost everyday, and she had grown to lo—

_Like. You *like* him. Nothing more. _She desperately hopes so.

* * *

"This is pretty good," Donald says, bobbing his head at the sound of a funky mix of B.o.B's Magic. "I like it."

Most of the other Trebles are out of the Treble House, and it's only Jesse, Donald, and Benji (who usually hangs out at the Treble house, courtesy of Jesse). The three are listening to the tracks from Beca's CD, and Jesse's face lights up as he recognizes the mix that Beca had let him hear that night at the dorm.

_So she gave the mix to me. _As much as he doesn't want to make a big deal of it (look where that's gotten him), this makes him forget about the embarrassing happening at her dorm.

"She's really good at this," Benji comments about the music.

"She is." Jesse is smiling to himself again; all is right in the world. The boys listen for a while longer, before Benji looks at his watch and sighs.

"Hey guys, I have to go now. Bumper and the others should be back any minute."

Donald and Jesse bid him farewell. It's always like this, and they feel sorry for Benji. He's literally their number one fan, and everyone knows the guy can sing; he proved that much during the auditions. But for some reason (and by 'some', they know it's Bumper) he didn't get into the Treblemakers. So he hangs around, Jesse more than willing to make him feel at home whenever he can. A lot of the other Trebles have taken to loving him around too, even though they're not exactly allowed to voice that out.

* * *

"_You can sing 'Turn the Beat Around', and that's the last that I wanna hear of this."_

Practice is nearly over, and the Bellas are not moving, nearly not breathing; they're all rag dolls under the weight of Aubrey's stern regime. Beca had never been more at odds with anyone in her life, not even her father had been able to pick at her nerves the way Aubrey could. The way Aubrey just did.

"Alright, up girls, let's do it again," Aubrey claps.

"I can't even move my pinky finger," Fat Amy huffs.

"I haven't felt this exhausted since the night I lost my virginity," said Stacie.

The stress of her classes, the Bellas rehearsals under the watchful guidance of Aubrey, the station, and everything else in between is killing Beca, but that's not the main occupant in her mind. At the moment, all she can think of is how she wouldn't be able to semi-open up to her stacking buddy that day, because she might have scared him away for good. She gulps water down violently, her movements screaming _fuck everything, I hate the world. _Trying to keep her cool in front of Aubrey had been difficult enough; when pushed to physical exhaustion, she isn't sure she would hold under the pressure.

"Hey," Fat Amy approaches her cautiously. Since she had just gotten the solo instead of Beca, she doesn't want any bad blood between them. "Beca, are you alright?" she asks.

Beca looks at Fat Amy, who is visibly concerned about her, and she realizes what this must come across as.

"Oh, no, yeah yea, I'm... it's fine. Really." She smiles at Amy, touched that she would care to ask. Even if it's not remotely _fine_.

"Oh, okay," Fat Amy says, relieved that she would not be the object of Beca's killer rampage, if ever. _Still..._

"Is this about the juice-pouch-giving hottie you have?" Amy tries to whisper, not subtly enough. Some of the other Bellas perk their ears to listen in while Aubrey is talking to Chloe.

She and Jesse are friends. Were friends. Are going to be..._ damnit_. She rubs her temples to magically erase the anxiety away. There's no way that mix could make up for anything.

"Umm..." Beca thinks. Some of them are looking eagerly at her. She holds their interest, like Amy's dingo video from last week, waiting for confirmation of what undoubtedly has been circling the rumor mill for some time.

_Oh, for crying out loud, all right._

"It's not him, it's me," she finally acknowledges, eliciting "ah"s and "oh"s from her fellow Bellas.

While Beca had never been one to open up (she'd rather melt in the digestive system of a python), it's a weight off her chest to have expressed this to the girls. The whole lot of them understands her sentiments ("Boys are dicks" is Fat Amy's standard response), and she appreciates that. Girls can be bitches, i.e. Aubrey, but this Bella thing is really starting to grow on her.

They practice one more time, and Beca tries to keep in mind how she's doing it not just for herself, but for these girls too.


	15. 15: Plot Twist

After Beca's mix, things with Jesse resumed their natural courrse as according to the laws of unfulfilled, subconscious attraction, with their same witty banter and harmless(ish) half-flirting. Seasons came and went, and with that, the new season for a capella draws even nearer. Jesse and Beca maintain a close relationship amidst the disordered stacks of CDs that they fix together, and it is now the day before the regionals.

"No, come on, I'm serious," he says, stacking Christina Aguilera way up on the top. "So you've never heard of Jesse J's Price Tag?"

"Just because I mix contemporary pop songs, doesn't mean I know all of them."

"Please tell me you at least know who Lady Gaga is."

"Of course," she says. _That's the crazy black rapper, right..._

She loves this. She loves being able to talk with him during work, and giving him his daily dose of sarcasm. She recalls the time when it almost went to shit because of the awkwardness in her dorm, and she had missed him when he had avoided her. Gradually, she was able to admit this. If she had known that all it would take was a mix CD, she would have made some extras on hand.

_For all the times that I would have to apologize for messing up, _she thinks.

Jesse, on the other hand, doesn't even remember the mortifying events in her dorm. He's just happy that he had gotten a second chance; he had thought she wouldn't want to talk to him anymore after the completely dick move he had tried when he brought the movie at her dorm and attempted to kiss her. _She must've thought I had organized the whole damn thing, _he had thought. This had frozen his activities into such a rut that he had literally been unable to concentrate on anything else. But her CD changed all of that. And he had never voiced it out, but he is really thankful, because right now, he doesn't know what it would be like stacking strange songs without her.

"Hey," he says, "I know I never said this, but thanks for the mix." He tries to make it sound as casual as possible, but he is so much more grateful than he lets on. She smiles.

"Sure... How was it? Be honest." She's really curious about what he has to say.

_How was it? Why, how, what... _

"Oh, oh, now you're just fishing," he says, shaking his head. He notices that Beca isn't on one of her more chipper moods today, and he wants to change that.

"Got something on your mind?" he asks.

"Nope."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Okay... I hated your mix." When this freezes Beca and she looks at him like she's seriously gauging the honesty of that statement, he knows he's hit the mark.

"Ah, so it _is_ about the mix," he says, moving away from the shelves to the desk for more CDs. When Beca still doesn't answer, _This must be pretty heavy. _He stops what he's doing and just looks at her.

"You know you can talk to me, right?"

Beca continues stacking, trying to avoid the discussion of one of the things that she tries to keep to herself at all possible costs. She can feel Jesse burn holes at her from the corner of her eyes, but she goes on, acts as though nothing's happening. Nothing's wrong. She thinks he's dropped it when she feels him go back to work, but...

"Beca, I think that your music is one of the best I've ever heard, and I've heard a lot," he says. She smiles at him for that. _A genuine smile, _he thinks. He continues.

"You're not having a Van Gogh moment, are you? Because if you're gonna kill yourself for not being good enough, I demand a refund for all the juice pouches that I've bought for you."

"That's a lot of juice pouches. I don't think I can afford that."

"Exactly."

It takes a beat for her to figure out what to say next, and he waits for her patiently. He's not going to push if she doesn't want him to.

"It's not that I don't—I mean..." she starts. She didn't intend to come across as insecure about her work, she knows she's good at her music; she's actually pretty fucking amazing at it, but sometimes, it's just...

"It's just that... I haven't shown it to a lot of people." She continues to stack so as not to make a big deal out of it. "So, I don't get a lot of feedback."

"Oh, okay." Jesse understands. He completely does. So he weighs his following words carefully, and measures them letter by letter.

"Don't worry about it, Luke probably can't even tell the difference between his head and his ass," he says, startling her. "I doubt he'd know the difference between shit and good music."

This takes her by surprise. How he has gotten to know her so well takes her by surprise. They continue stacking, but Beca feels like she's just been rudely assaulted by something she could never have seen coming. Only then does she realize how much she's let him in, how much he could read into her. The revelation is fucking with her brain so much that it mutates into a fear that she can't quite shake, and all the things she's been telling herself, all the mantras to keep her sane, they become worthless, because it's too late for that now. And she's terrified.

_Fuck. _

_..._

Jesse finishes up stacking after Beca has left for Bellas rehearsals. It's been a crazy past couple of weeks, but if there's one thing he's learned, it's that this girl is more complicated than he could ever have imagined. And he loves that about her.

_I love everything about her, actually. _He doesn't even fight himself on that.

Alone in the station, his thoughts revolve around Beca when he gets a great idea...

Since Luke isn't around, he takes the mix that Beca had made for him and goes straight for the computers. He comes across the basket filled with Beca's flash drives and realizes that Luke probably hadn't even listened to any of her works at all, which makes him all the more convinced that he should do this. He's careful not to mess with too many buttons as he replaces the CD in the computer with Beca's mix. It'll be the first one that Luke would play when he comes into the station, and Jesse doesn't care if Luke gets pissed; Beca's music deserves to play on air.

* * *

**AN**: So that's my headcanon for what happened. :)

_Up Next, The Regionals, and a little bit more of Amy/Bumper._

_Turn it around, turni-turni-turn it around..._


	16. 16: The Regionals

"Ow! Stacie! Your boobs!"

"Sorry, it's not like I can control them."

"Hey, that spot's taken!"

"There'll be snacks, right? 'Cause I haven't had lunch and I might gas during my solo."

The Bellas whine as they struggle to fit inside Chloe's minivan. It's the Regionals, and everyone's on edge, even more so because of the apparent lack of roomy transportation. There had been a misunderstanding about the bus rental ("It's a sabotage, I'm telling you," Fat Amy told them), which is why, on this very important day, they become the embodiment of a can of sardines. Never has Aubrey's OC nature been more useful, as she had instructed the Bellas to get ready extra early. They might just make it, despite the sudden misfortune.

It's been friction upon heaping friction between Beca and Aubrey for the past few rehearsals. Ever since the Riff-Offs, Beca had been itching to put her 120% into the Bellas, because she knows they can do it. She knows they can make it. But she can't do jack shit if Aubrey won't let her. She sees so much talent in the other Bellas, and even though most of their rehearsals are spent slaving under Aubrey's dictatorship, she's developed a bond with the group, some sort of musical bond...

_Oh god, that sounds so weird, _she thinks.

They arrive at Carolina University Performing Arts Center just as the Sockapellas are mid-performance. Panting, they enter from the back of the audience, and Beca has just enough time to take it all in.

This is it. Make it or break it.

"_Ef you. Ef you very, very much..."_ The Sockapellas sing.

While not exactly a very grand display of a capella, Beca, and the rest of the Bellas, do seem to appreciate the unique nature of the group that is performing before them. At the same time, Beca feels the need to step up their own game.

_We can do better than that. So much better._

"There's no craft there. Watching them will make you worst." Aubrey says.

"At least they're different," Beca answers. _At least they actually tried._

Before they know it, the Sockapellas are done, and it's time.

"Hands in!" Aubrey says. When that fails, Chloe tries her best to calm down a nervous and vomit-prone Aubrey.

"Let's give it up foooor... The Barden Bellas!"

Beca is the first one in the line (she's the shortest), as a wave of applause greets them unto the stage. From the other side of the back of the audience, the Trebles watch the Bellas take their places, still a bit awkward and self-conscious on stage.

"Newbies," Bumper remarks. The pitch pipe toots...

"_One, two, three, four_..."

And the Bellas start the same song that had marked Aubrey's junior year with so much disdain. They synchronize quite well, and it's because of how much Aubrey has drilled them in the last weeks.

"_How could a person like me care for you?"_

The Trebles watch carefully as the Bellas put on a well-rehearsed show. Bumper makes an effort to look disgusted and bored at the same time, while the rest of the auditorium watches in respectful silence. Jesse, though, does not take his eyes away from Beca for a single moment, which is why he is the only Treble smiling. _Who knew she could pull off a lady outfit? _he thinks.

Come Aubrey's solo, the Trebles perk up a bit and pay closer attention...

"_I saw the sign_," Aubrey sings, finishing the words she had not been able to complete last year.

"Damnit," Bumper huffs, as he hands Donald a twenty-dollar bill.

The rest of the song proceeds as planned, albeit a bit dryly. Chloe's solo seems to be rather mellow, which is not what the audience needs right now. Bumper makes an effort to emphasize a fake yawn.

But everything changes when Amy takes the microphone.

"_Turn it around, turn it around, turni-turni-turn it around..."_

The energy builds, and the audience starts to get excited for this new segment. But the most shocked of them all is Bumper, who looks as though he were experiencing some unanticipated twist of fate that had been thrust upon him as he sees Amy take the lead and sound-check the mic on her breast.

"_Aw yeah..." _

"_(Turn the beat around) Turn the beat around..."_

Fat Amy takes the audience by surprise as she gives it her all, and more.

"_(Turn the beat around) You gotta turn the beat around, you gotta turn it around..."_

She sasses all over the stage, and the Bellas catch on her enthusiasm. She bounces, she jumps, she growls, she improvises, and she hits all the notes, plus a little more on the top. The audience is visibly energized, and Beca's face changes from sourly grandmother to _oh-my-god-this-is-so-crazy-I-love-it_.

"_(Love to hear it) Whoa! (Love to heat it, Love to hear—)"_

_This is for Bumper, _Amy thinks. _Fuck you very, very much._

"_PERCUSSIIIIOOOOOOOOON!" _Amy belts the last note, sustains it, and manages to remove the first layer of her clothing...

_Nope, not quite there yet..._

"_Turn it around!" _the Bellas finish, as Fat Amy rips her shirt open, sending buttons hurling.

The crowd is wild with enthusiasm. No one could have seen that coming, and Beca can't help the intense giggly-grin she has. Every single one of the Bellas feels like they've just pulled it off. Except Aubrey.

"Bumper..." Unicycle says, as Bumper realizes that his jaw is hanging. He quickly composes himself and shouts a "boo", feeling a bit self-conscious. Jesse is clapping all the way, but not necessarily because of Fat Amy's performance.

"Thank you. Really incredible, ladies and gentlemen" the announcer says, as the Bellas make their way down the stage. Jesse makes a hand-heart to Beca, which earns him a smile from her, and a glare from Aubrey.

"...'Cause this next group is also from Barden. Ladies and gentlemen, the Barden University Trrrrreblemakers!"

The Trebles take the stage, and it's now the Bellas' turn to play spectator. The audience, all-too-familiar with the group, is already pumped. Fangirls raise posters, and Benji is wearing his Treblemakers #1 glove. The Trebles are at home on stage, and Bumper runs the house.

A low bass amplifies as Donald makes the first note, culminating into a perfect, _perfect _harmony...

"_You spin my head right round, right round..."_

The Bellas watch intensely as the Trebles send shivers all throughout the auditorium.

"_Walk out my house with my swagger, Hop in that with dough, I got places to go!" _

"Holy shit," Stacie gasps, fanning herself as Donald takes the first verse. Even Cynthia Rose is nodding at that. Lilly, on the other hand, has never been in more concentration. It's a strange mix of horror and absolute eargasm to watch their competitors wipe their own performance off the charts and sweep the audience off their feet, but Beca doesn't notice them, because Jesse...

_Good god, Jesse..._

"_I know the storm is comin' my pockets keep tellin' me it's gonna shower," _Jesse sings, taking the lead as Beca wonders where the hell this smoking hot singer man came from. She tries to reconcile what she's seeing with the dork that she usually stacks with, but she can't. He is so different when performing, gracing the stage with so much, _just so much swagger._..

He points in the direction of the Bellas, and she smiles. She knows whom that's for.

They end with a bang, Donald and Jesse back to back in front of a wild, screaming audience. As the Trebles make their way down the stage (to the delight of some of the more fanatic audience members), Beca sees Jesse smile brightly at her, the bravado he had in the performance toned down to a neutral almost-zero.

_It's so weird_, she thinks. It seems so strange that this man would be able to go from one version of himself to the other. She doesn't think it bad, though. There are many sides to everyone, and she somewhat enjoys the fact that Jesse can be both his usual, nerdy self, and this gorgeous piece of ass walking towards her right now.

"How was it?" he asks of her.

"It was alright."

He nods to that. Her sarcasm had never been in his favor, till now. Before long, the announcer comes up on the stage to announce the winners.

"—and, advancing to this year's semi-finals, The Barden Bellas!"

The Bellas rejoice to that, and Beca knows they have Fat Amy to thank for. When the announcer declares first place, she feel no hint of remorse whatsoever for their competitors. They deserved it. Jesse deserved it...

_Jesse deserves a lot of things. _She is suddenly aware of what the small voice in her mind had been telling her for some time now. While he had never voiced out a desire for her to give more than she would, Beca knows that she has been holding back. She thinks back to all his little gimmicks, from singing to her, to singing for her, to buying her juice pouches almost every fucking day, and what has she done?

She doesn't like this feeling, this thing that's telling her to show a little more, give a little more in their relationship. She owes no one, not her father, not her mother, not anyone, but somehow, Jesse has managed to creep up on her, and as difficult as it is for her to admit, she has let him in. These feelings are way past friendship now, and she'll be damned if she encourages him further into something she's afraid of.

But all these thoughts are pushed aside when she comes to his rescue, punching a grown man in the face.

* * *

**AN**: This fic turned out way, way more than I expected, and I am super grateful for the reviews. I just hope that I do the story justice. :)

Sorry guys, I'm feeling a bit sick (too much sitting in front of the computer, I guess), and I don't think I'll be able to update as super fast as I used to. But a lot of things are coming up, some of which include...

~SEGUE~

HOLY MOTHER OF ALL THINGS THE BLURAY IS OUT AND IM FREAKING AND THE DELETED SCENES AND SHIT aksdhfgoasiydgfoasdhgfdfh Yes, I will find a way to incorporate those. Please. Yes...

Surprise surprise... a lot of plot twists and bonus scenes coming up... Aubrey's lovelife will be explained... and so will Benji's... and then there's Donald and Lilly... and some angst... I am so psyched to write the rest.

_Up next: oh you know what's next after this..._


	17. 17: Punch Me in the Face

"I'm willing to sign breasts! I'm willing to sign breasts!"

Bumper is feeling his characteristically egotistic self as the Trebles leave the auditorium with their trophy. They spot the Tonehangers performing outside, and Bumper jumps in to show off.

"I'm willing to si—Oh! Look who it is! Old dudes. Get a life."

The Trebles had had a good night, and no one could take that away from them. Not even four, fully grown men who need serious mental help (as evidenced by their "oral magic"). The Bellas come out just in time to recognize a broil brewing. It seems that the Trebles have gotten themselves into a bit of their namesake, as the adults are clearly having none of that pacifist bullshit.

"Please say you're looking for a fight. Please..." One of them pleads. _Goddamnit, Bumper_, Jesse thinks as Bumper hands him the trophy and makes up a chickenshit excuse. _Of all the idiotic things to get us into..._

_This is bad mojo, _Beca thinks to herself, while Fat Amy looks just about ready to dive headfirst into the testosterone pool.

"Let's get it on!"

Before anyone even knew what was going on, bodies are suddenly getting hurled against walls, tables, chairs, and the Treblemakers are in for some serious... whatever it is that the four stooges had in mind when they started to attack. The worst part of it all is that Jesse, being the trophy-bearer, had gotten the attention of the most cuckoo of them all. He tries his best to avoid the forceful pleading of a man desperate for confrontation.

"Hit me! Hit me as hard as you can!" The man tells Jesse, who looks awkward as fuck at the situation he's in.

_Oh shit, _Beca thinks. Of all the times that he should revert back into his nerdy self...

* * *

There have been many situations that Jesse has had to deal with on the spot, but he isn't one to know the standard operating procedure for when one is asked by a fully-functioning adult to hit them hard with a trophy.

"Why would you want me to hit you, I don't wanna do that," Jesse says, but the man is insistent. With the rest of the Trebles invested in the aca-drama, Jesse has only two options: either he chickens out and suffers for it, or he fights, and possibly suffers even more. Thank god for Beca, who makes the decision for him.

"Hey!" she calls out, surprising the insane man with a blow to the... cheekbone.

_Motherfucker. _"OW! Oh my god!" Beca has never seriously punched anyone (save for the occasional intolerable bitch) in her life, and the solid structure of the human skull genuinely surprises her.

"Oh my god! Oh my god!" Jesse looks more surprised by that punch than anyone else. Everyone else seems to be shocked by the sudden blow, except the recipient of said blow, who seems to be enjoying it in some twisted fashion, making Fat Amy all the more determined to hurt somebody. She takes the trophy from Jesse (who is now rather lost as to what in fucking hell is going on) as Beca does her best to keep her friend from causing a dead body.

"FEEL THE FAT POWER!"

"Amy! Amy, don't! AMY!"

And it all happened so fast, Beca and Amy struggling to get a hold of the trophy, that the sudden shatter of glass wakes everyone up to the harsh reality that this is not like a cafeteria food fight where no one gets arrested. People scramble out of the way, forgetting everything had ever happened. Except for Beca, who is holding the only evidence to the destruction of property that just occurred. She stands there stupefied, her brain unable to keep up with the fact that she is now being placed in handcuffs.

* * *

**AN**: I know it's rather short, but there's a purpose to that. I'm hoping to go into more detail about their thoughts about this part of the movie, later on. You know, kinda like it's only when you look back on things do you get to see a whole new side of it.

Also, still sick... but also still working on this. Hopefully, I'll have an update every day. At least. Hopefully...

Thanks for reading thus far...


	18. 18: Million Dollar Baby

Beca has mixed feelings about being greeted by Jesse as soon as she exits the police department.

There he is, waiting for her, and while the rest of the world had run away, he had stayed. And there it is again, that nagging feeling at the pit of her stomach, making her feel vulnerable.

"Hey Hillary Swank from Million Dollar Baby."

"Hey. You know you just have to say 'Hey, Million Dollar Baby.' You don't have to reference the specific actress."

"Damn. Prison changed you."

It's these little moments that the small voice grows louder, and she finds herself shushing it, burying it away under the happiness she feels around him. She doesn't realize that this happiness is only one side of the coin; it is the fact that Jesse makes her happy, that makes her really scared.

_Happiness can be ripped away in the blink of an eye, leaving you with nothing._

"Thanks for bailing me out," she says.

"Well, I didn't."

_Oh, fuck, _she thinks, as she recognizes the car in front of her.

"You called my dad?" All at once, the implied feelings of her terrible, broken childhood make a guest appearance as she feels herself suddenly get quite upset.

"I know, I know, but they were putting you in handcuffs, Bec. It looked pretty serious—"

"That doesn't mean you call my dad!" Hey words are directed to him, but they're so much more than that.

_That doesn't mean you can just be sweet when you want to. That doesn't mean that this is a thing, that I should feel like this. Just because you waited up for me doesn't mean that I'll be waiting up for you. And this doesn't mean a fucking thing if I don't want it to._

"Who else was I gonna call, okay? Why are you yelling at me? I'm the only one here."

"I didn't ask you to be!"

_I didn't ask you to wait up, or to be kind or funny. I never asked you to buy me stupid juice pouches or sing to me whenever. I didn't ask you to know me and get under my skin, to listen to me or care about what I'm going through. And I sure as hell didn't ask you to fall in love with me._

"I was just trying to help." Jesse looks thoroughly apologetic, and it sinks in.

That's all he ever does, all he's ever wanted to do. He does shit like surprise her and sing to her and bring her movies because he just... wants her to be happy. And he's happy whenever she is, while she's happy when...

_I'm not. I'm not happy._

"I don't need your help! You're not my boyfriend."

And there it is.

Jesse feels the weight of her words drag him down, heavy with something worse than rejection. He sees the dysfunctional relationship Beca has with her father, but it seems unfair that she would lash out on him for trying to be there for her. His mind is dizzy rearranging everything between them, from the good to the bad to the worst, all the way up to this moment.

_What did I do? _The question of the century.

In the car, Beca's thoughts are tangled and in complete disarray. If she had thought math was difficult, well, calculus is a pie compared to this fuckup she's in. Her mind races to try to understand the source of the strong feelings of confusion and all she can come up with is a little voice in her head telling her _I told you so. _She convinces herself that the threat of losing L.A. is what matters most, because music is her first love, her only love, and Jesse can go to hell if he's going to cause her to lose that.

At the other side of the passengers seat, Jesse's mind might have well been a mirror of Beca's.

There are setbacks to liking a complicated girl, and one of those is that sometimes, it ends up getting too complicated. His mind is on overdrive trying to understand Beca, and all the things that she has done for him, all the times she's opened up. He had waited for her, been there for her, without asking for anything in return and without expecting anything, really, and it's seriously batshit to have to deal with her wrath without knowing what he had done. But while he has no clue what Beca is thinking right now, or ever, there is one thing he knows...

He is not, and probably will never be, her boyfriend.

_"Got it."_

They sit at opposite ends, looking away from each other, as though similar poles repulsed by each other, their faces turned towards the outside. The car ride is silent except in their heads, where a mess of thoughts eats away at their peace of mind.

* * *

**AN**: A word...

I know Beca seemed like such a bitch at this point, so I wanted to explore more of that side of her. And Jesse, too. The movie wasn't able to delve into certain causalities, which I hope to explain later on.

As always, reviews are welcome. I really appreciate ya'll reading thus far. :)

Shoutout to lavalamp200. :)

_Up next: Trebles and Bellas rehearsals_

_Coming soon: before the semi-finals, burritos, and Donald and Unicycle... "Jinx, bitch..."_

_Coming sooner: Jesse, Luke, and tension..._


	19. 19: Heels

"_From now on, there will be no more wasting time with work, or school, or boyfriends, or partners..."_

Aubrey had directed them under strict rules after the regionals, and with only a few more practices left before the semi-finals, they have now gone full-on rehearsal mode. Not even academics is considered important enough; every single one of the Bellas had to "pull weight", as Aubrey had put it, and what little fun that used to accompany practices has transmuted into a disfigured form of diligent self-punishment.

"Turn it around!" They collectively end the umpteenth run-through of the day. They've been wearing heels for the entirety of the time, and Beca's soles hurt like a motherfucker.

_Beca takes her shoe off and hurls it straight into Aubrey's face._

"Beca?" A voice wakes Beca up from her daydream. Chloe is walking towards her with water.

"Oh, thanks," Beca says as she accepts it and gulps it down in almost one go.

Chloe has been the only thing standing between the rest of the Bellas and the possibility (more of 'high likelihood') of Aubrey's severed remains. While Aubrey can be tolerable (and even sometimes, dare she admits it, _semi-likable_), the past couple of weeks, she's been nothing but a hell-hound for success, and Chloe, being more familiar with Aubrey than the rest of them, has been the one to soothe the group for the sake of the group. Now, she goes around each of the tired Bellas to talk to them, give them little bits of encouragement. And it's Beca's turn.

"Hey."

"What's up?"

"So, how are you?"

"Fine..."

Chloe looks at her as though waiting for her to continue. Beca returns a look as though asking her what's going on. Cynthia Rose and Stacie give each other looks as though saying _yeah right, she's fine. _Fat Amy rolls her eyes at them.

"What's this all about?" Beca asks.

"Nothing, nothing," Chloe brushes it off. Damnit, now she's curious.

"Spill it."

"I was just wondering why, you know—Umm..." Chloe starts, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

"We all want to know what's been eating your panties and bunching them up," Fat Amy offers. Beca shoots them a bona fide _What?!_-look.

"What are you talking about? I'm always like this."

"Yea—no, you're not. Your panties are slightly more bunched up than usual. Like, they're forced into the shape of a spiky thong and giving you an itch to kill someone... more than usual."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Beca dismisses, willing to exit practice already. While Aubrey is busy examining their victory board, Chloe is busy examining Beca. All of them are, actually.

"Look, Beca, I know these days are tough, and I know we've got a lot on our—"

"If you're worried that I'll lose my shit in the semi-finals, don't. I promise to be the best Bella number seven that I could possibly be, alright?" Beca mockingly crosses her heart while she says this. _Why are they pushing this? I'm fine._

Chloe looks hurt for a moment, but she continues.

"I wasn't bringing up the semi-finals. I'm here as your friend, Beca, and I just want you to know that, if you ever want to talk, about anything, just call me," Chloe says, and Beca takes this as a pleasantly surprising slap to the face.

"_O__h_." The realization gets her really embarrassed. "I am—such a dick," she says. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

The Bellas enjoy the rest of the remaining fifteen seconds of their break time before Aubrey hauls them up for another run. And another. And another. They might as well be stuck in an infinite time loop, until Aubrey finally calls it. The Bellas barely have enough energy to pack their stuff up.

Beca walks to her dorm, the stinging of her soles more acute than ever...

* * *

"_Hey—Whoa."_

_Beca is on her second week with the Bellas, and Aubrey's task at the moment is to wear heels... everyday. All throughout the day. Throughout the week. It's Friday, and Beca feels like stabbing her heel into the nearest eye, which happens to be Jesse's._

_He greets her, obviously about to make a clever joke about her lady-like person with the heels and all, but thinks better of it, after noticing how much she's struggling to walk. So instead, he offers his arm._

_He doesn't even make a big deal out of it, it seemed so natural to him, walking alongside her and making that gesture, that Beca had to make sure she didn't look lost. She took it. It was a way for him to be able to support her while she walked, and in a way, he's been supporting her ever since..._

... And she has leaned into that support, gradually putting herself into a place that could compromise both of them. That _had _already compromised the two of them.

Beca walks in silent dignity, regretful of the million little choices that took her here.

* * *

"_I don't need your help! You're not my boyfriend."_

Jesse replays her words over and over, feeling them stinging each and every time. Still, the mental self-flagellation continues. She was insanely upset at him for what? Taking the fall for that goddamned-

"Yo, Jesse! What happened?"

He awakes to the Trebles, mid-set during rehearsals, and he forgot to enter when he's supposed to. They are frozen statues, awkwardly poised to welcome a non-existent solo on the stage.

"What the hell, man!" Bumper is not pleased.

"I'm sorry, can we take it again, please?..." The Trebles, though clearly having reason to slap the back of his head, look more akin to giving him a hug. News of his fallout with Beca had reached... well, it reached everyone who had interest in the news, which means everybody. Bumper calls a timeout, and the Treble men try to show sympathy towards Jesse in their own way.

"Forget about it, she probably didn't mean it."

"You know what, you're better off with that Stacie chick."

"There are a million other fishes, man, and we're sharks. Don't let it get to you."

Throughout the year thus far, the Trebles have become some sort of extended family towards each other, and even though their front man is a dickwad asshole doucheface (as he himself proudly claims to be), they are a brotherhood nonetheless, and they know when something is a big deal, and something isn't. This, this thing Jesse has, or _had, _with Beca is definitely one of the bigger things.

While Jesse appreciates the comments thrown in his general direction, he takes all of them with a grain of salt. The majority of them advise him to 'forget about it', 'move on', and his personal favorite, 'show her you're better off with a new girl', as though Beca were some discarded piece of Mac technology. Everyone expresses their own sentiments.

Jesse takes it all in stride, but the truth is, he's sick of all the Beca comments. A part of him wants to shout that _For fuck's sake, my world doesn't revolve around her so shut up already... _because he doesn't know how much more he could take of the daily reminders of how little this had meant to her. It makes him feel so very, very stupid, because it seems as though he had made it all up: this... _thing. _Whatever it is that he thought they had and shared, even if it's just friendship (it's not even_ 'just'_; his friendship with Beca was... beautiful), all that seems to have fallen apart when she told him how much she doesn't want his help. It is the final the punctuation of their relationship, and he's sick of everyone thinking that it's such an exclamation.

It's more like a full stop, plain and simple; a declaration that he didn't really matter. If anything, that's what hurts him the most.

* * *

**AN**: I realized, upon watching the bonus scenes, that I had made a grave mistake as to the timeframe of events in the movie, and for that, I sincerely apologize. I'm not all that familiar with the academic schedule of the US. In any case, I've edited chapter 15 accordingly.

Also, Happy Holidays everyone. :)


	20. 20: Bromance

Jesse enters the station on the day of the regionals looking his usual self. He proceeds to stack like he has always done in the past months. Over and over, he repeats the motions of placing and replacing, ordering and arranging, because if he can't get through a day of boring stacking without thinking about Beca, he's is seriously screwed. Just when he has almost gotten away with thinking only purely about the set for tonight, Luke comes out with a new box and, surprise surprise, joins him at the desk.

By now, Luke is used to the bipolar work attitudes of the two of them, but this is the first time that he had actually gone outside the protective bubble of his booth to help. Jesse is not quite sure of what to make of Luke getting his hands dirty by stacking CDs with him.

"Jesse."

"Luke."

They give their laconic exchanges as manly men, no need for fancy greetings. They stack silently for a while, trying to out-testosterone each other without looking like trying too hard, when Luke finally speaks up.

"You and Becky aren't together, are you?"

_You have got to be shitting me._

Is there no end to this? Jesse came to work today to get rid of the pesky Beca comments and unnecessary sympathy that had been accompanying him for the last few days, and this is what he gets? His own fucking boss calling dibs on his...

_She's not your girlfriend._

"No. Why?"

"Nothing, really." And the award for Most Cryptic Answer goes to Luke, the Station Manager.

Jesse thinks of asking him what's on his mind, calling him out on it, but something is keeping him back. Maybe it's the fact that he doesn't want to know if Luke the Handsome English Station Manager with a Six-Pack has a crush on the woman who had hurt him. Unfortunately, he didn't even have to ask.

"What kinds of indie films do you think she's into?"

Jesse, despite all pretenses of maintaining control and not giving a shit, feels a recoiling in his blood.

"Why are you asking me this?"

"You spend more time with her, figured you'd know."

"Well, why don't you ask her yourself. Or better yet, try surprising her with two tickets. She'd love that."

Jesse knows he's being spiteful and Luke doesn't deserve it (so much), but something about this whole situation pisses him off, and he can't decide if it's how Beca has treated him, or how much he knows he still cares for her despite. He has no right whatsoever to feel jealous, and he also knows that she doesn't want him, which leaves just her, and Luke. He tries to ignore how the thought affects him.

"Alright, take it easy, I just thought you'd know."

"I do," Jesse adds, moving to the other, farther end of the table. "I just don't want to tell you because you haven't bothered to ask her yourself. You haven't exactly tried to get to know her all this time, so forgive me if I sound a little surprised that you would suddenly ask me about her."

"Really? That seems a bit harsh coming from the person she's avoiding."

This causes Jesse to visibly pause. _Pour water over burn._

They continue stacking, Jesse not caring to justify his estrangement from Beca, because Luke's right. Beca is avoiding him. She hasn't been to the station, and she seems not to care about how she had so callously declared her implied non-affection. And it's not like Luke is trying to break them up. Not that there was anything to break up in the first place... Whoever's fault it is, Jesse still regrets the whole damned situation.

"So, which one of you two decided to go inside the booth and replace my CD?" Luke asks, still stacking as though it's no big deal, when they both know he has grounds to fire someone for a stunt like that. "I'd assume it was Becky since the mix is probably hers, but given that you've been more than annoying about how I should play her music, I'd say you both have equal claim to the deed." He stops and leans his arm on the desk, the waves of his muscles meant to intimidate. "You gonna tell me who it is?"

Jesse, for a split-second, debates whether or not to say it was _not_ him (a lie) and certainly _not_ her either (because 'Becky' isn't her fucking name), but he thinks better of it.

"It was me," he admits nonchalantly.

"Okay... You're lucky I liked the mix. Don't do that again," Luke says with a deadly calm.

Jesse's jaw tenses. _Well, this is peachy, isn't it._

"Don't worry, won't happen again."

After a while, Jesse feels the loud awkward that he and Luke are creating by being around the same physical space together, so he decides to move upstairs.

Luke is a good guy. He isn't overbearing or extremely annoying (unlike some people Jesse knows). Which irritates Jesse all the more. He's not supposed to feel like this, the rational thought in his mind tells him. He and Beca are friends, they got into a fight, and Luke likes her...

* * *

Beca is itchy with the tension for the semi-finals today, but hey, at least she doesn't feel guilty about missing work and a lot of school. At least, that's what she convinces herself to feel: not guilty. She is on her way to the Bellas bus, uniform and all, when she recognizes an all too familiar strain of melody wafting towards her from what is unmistakably a radio. All at once, she is high from the implications of this sudden occurrence, and she decides to make a quick detour...

* * *

_"This time, baby, I'll be.. bulletproof..."_

"Hey!"

Jesse would recognize that voice anywhere. He leans over the balcony to see Beca hurriedly enter the station, wearing her overly lady-like Bellas uniform, walking like a duck the way she always does when wearing heels. He knows her presence probably has something to do with her mix playing right now.

She goes straight for the booth, tapping at the glass happily.

"This is my track! You're playing my song right now! That is awesome! You like it? You put it on the radio! That is amazing!"

He hears her talking really loud and sees her all giddy with excitement about how her music was good enough to be played on the radio. _It's always been good enough_, he thinks. He can't help but feel sorely disappointed that it takes Luke for her to see that, and not him. Especially when she's smiling like that, the genuity of her excitement overflowing in how she talks and moves, kind of like during the Riff-Offs...

God, he missed her.

"It's a sick beat," Luke comes out of the booth, carrying a box that, once again, flexes his muscles none too subtly under his ridiculously tight shirt.

"Yeah, I always thought her beats were pretty sick," Jesse adds from the safe distance of the second floor. This earns him no more than barely a glance from her. _Okay. Ouch._

"Hey, Becky, listen. Spring break, I want you to take the night shift. Play your music."

_Oh, hell no._

Jesse makes his way down, unreasonably upset at what Luke is trying to pull off here.

"The DJ at the garage does a brilliant version of this. But yours, it's better."

"Yeah it is."

"I'm gonna listen to her tonight, I think you should... you should come with."

Jesse tries to bite down a resentfully sarcastic remark. _Smooth, Luke. Very smooth._

"I have a thing."

"Flight attendant training?"

"It's, uh, Barden Bellas. Um, I have the semi-finals tonight."

"Really? I did not have you pegged as an a capella girl."

Out of everything that Luke has said, this pisses Jesse the most.

"That's because you don't know 'Becky' like I do," he says upon his exit. "I'll see you tonight," he says to Beca.

He leaves them with that display of raw honesty because he is fucking tired of all the shit. And she doesn't want his help, whatever that's supposed to mean. And he had Luke play her track in the radio; the mix she had given him. And he had cared for her. And he still does.

And that's that.


	21. 21: The Wheels on the Bus

"We are not allowed to use the toilet in the bus after eating this 'cause it is gonna be straight _explosive_," Bumper says, his mouth chock full of medium-spice jalapeño burrito goodness.

The Trebles will be leaving for the semi-finals soon, but not before Bumper gets his daily dose of Mexican food, with Donald and Unicycle accompanying him (to make sure he doesn't over-splurge on the beans; god forbid what would come of that).

"I could eat these everyday."

"You do." The two chaperones both say at the same time.

"Jinx, bitch... Double jinx... Buy me a coke... holy crap, call Guinness... shit!... OH MY GOD!" The two of them are of one mind and soul as they each state exactly what the other does, at the same time, while Bumper looks at them unamused.

"Please don't do that in front of girls. _Please_. I am _begging_ you."

They all get into Donald's car to meet up with the rest of the Trebles in the Treble bus, exclusively hand-painted by the maiden virgins of Barden University and furnished by the entire College of the Arts as an offering to Bumper's vocal pipes, his gift to the world (or so, according to Treble history as narrated by Bumper).

Benji had wanted to hitch a ride with them, not even for his love of the Trebles, but for his love for the environment, classic Benji. Jesse had hated that his friend always had to be left out. He hated that the group is controlled by a burrito-toting egomaniac, but what's he gonna do? You wanna play the game, you gotta know the rules.

On the other side of the school, the Bellas prepare for their departure. The bus was rented extra early this time, but the Bellas are taking no chances, which is why they are boarding the bus at the other side of campus ("To minimize sabotage," Fat Amy had suggested.) Unfortunately, luck is not on their side, as it never is. Not two miles out, they are in need of a fill, and they stop by the last gas station for miles before they head back on the road.

"Okay, don't you flat-butts worry, I got this. I'm just gonna pump and dump."

As Fat Amy heads down to fill their tank, Chloe moves to sit beside Beca, just about to fix her long hair for tonight.

"Hey."

"Hi."

"How are you?"

_Fucking shit, not this again._

"I'm good."

"Good."

And Chloe sits there so awkwardly, staring straight ahead, that Beca knows that this is what she's been gunning for all along, the sneaky bitch.

_Oh, for fuck's sake._

* * *

While Bumper goes on and on about his mancrush on Sisqo, Jesse's mind is on other things...

_I didn't mean for... whatever it is that I did to push her away_, Jesse thinks to himself.

* * *

"I mean, it's... not his fault," Beca tells Chloe beside her, who is looking straight ahead, nodding at what she's saying. "I-" Beca doesn't know how to start. She doesn't even turn to look at Chloe, being so absorbed at the complexities of it all...

_There are some things that I just don't understand about her. And sometimes, there are little hints..._

"I don't know," Beca muses. "I don't know..."

_...that sometimes makes me feel that she's closer than she lets on._

"It's not his fault. I know that, I do. But sometimes, I just..."

_And that gives me hope. Because as much as she tries not to lead me on..._

"I can't-I don't-"

..._the fact that she has to try, already means something, doesn't it?_

"I'm-" Beca does not know how to end the sentence that would state what she wants. She thinks and thinks, and blurts out what she has come up with.

"I like him but I can't... be with him," she says, finally turning to Chloe, who looks startled as she pulls out an earbud hidden behind her long hair.

"Oh, sorry, what was that?"

Beca sighs. Her mind is working on a plausible solution for her predicament with Jesse, but there's something missing about her computation. She likes him, yes. She cares for him... perhaps (of course). Does she want him... no (a lot). Does she want to be with him... and that is where things get a little more muddled than she would like. She's always been confident about what she wants, but things with Jesse had taken a turn into unfamiliar territory; a place where she is seriously incapable of choosing, because her choices had always favored her instinct to emotionally survive. She had always wanted what would be easier, keep her from vulnerabilities that had so traumatized her in the past. When her wants come into conflict with her preprogrammed penchant for emotional survival, her brain goes into syntax error, unable to compute what to do next.

* * *

"I don't care what you say. Cisqo live, best performance ever, I've ever seen. 'Thong Song' isn't his only hit, alright. I'm serious..."

"Yo, Bumper, is that Fat Amy?"

And that is how the burrito escapade begins: Bumper screaming 'Sabotage!' and Fat Amy getting shot in the chest with Zippy's Extra Zingy Jalapeño Burrito Special.

"I've just been shot!" Fat Amy slumps beside the bus, fully aware of the blood-like chili splattered all over her white Bellas shirt uniform. _Well, I won't be able to rip this open later._

"Oh my god, what happened!" Aubrey shrieks, as they usher a mad, dirty, Fat Amy onto the bus.

"Bumper," Cynthia Rose responds.

"It was a sabotage. He's dead meat to me... I'll make a T-bone out of him," Fat Amy huffs, nearly breathless with the promise of revenge (steak) on her lips.

"That dicklick." Aubrey cannot contain her own personal pet name for him. Beca's brows raise at that.

They help Fat Amy clean up, and before soon, they are back on the road, waiting to hopefully kick those Trebles in the competition later.

* * *

**AN**: Part one of two, from the bus scenes. One of the best extended scenes.

_Next up: The Trebles and Bellas with some pre-competition warmups._

_Coming soon: The holiday transitions, as according to Jesse and Beca_


	22. 22: Go Round and Round

**AN**: Second part to The Wheels on the Bus. I don't know about you guys, but I sensed a lot of tension during that bus scene... especially in the extended version.

Most of the lines and scenes in this chapter are from the extended version of this scene, and Kay Cannon is God's gift to humanity. I merely translated them into fic form. Just to be clear. Terribly sorry for any confusion.

...

* * *

_"Whoa-yeah-yeah-yeah!"_

_"It's a party in the U.S.A."_

The Bellas are having the time of their lives as their usually mundane roadtrip turned into a musical, featuring what Beca had once thought was the most detestable song in all of humanity. Her musical preferences, however, are set aside to accommodate the demanding looks of her fellow Bellas, and she had been forced into belting it all out with them (Damn her, knowing the lyrics).

"Yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah! It's a... it's um... whoa..." Fat Amy tunes, as the gas engine sputters out and wheezes. Not good.

"What the hell?" Aubrey's panic mode starts kicking in.

Really, it's Bumper's fault, not Amy's. No one is to blame when flying burritos are involved. The bus sputters and slows, until it finally stops in the middle of veritable nowhere. No gas, no vehicle, no competition to go to. No fucking way.

"Man, what are we gonna do?" Fat Amy says. It's a rhetorical question, and she's hoping someone else would bring it up.

"Maybe we could call-" Chloe offers.

"No! Don't even say it, Chloe! How dare you!" Aubrey is not having any of that.

"Oh, no, actually, that is a really good idea. I've got Bumper's number," Fat Amy says.

"Why do you have Bumper's number?" Aubrey wants to know.

"Uh..."

_Oh shit._

"Ah..."

_Come on, come on, come on, think..._

"Eh..."

_Fuckityfucker..._

"I think that's a bad idea," Beca offers. If Fat Amy were facing her, Beca would sneak a wink.

"Thank you, Beca," Aubrey says.

"Do we have a choice?" Stacie is worried. Her cuticles need aircon.

"No! No, no, no, no way in hell."

"Aubrey, calm down, it's not like we're going anywhere at this state."

Aubrey makes a humming noise of the same variety as a jammed printer. Beca thinks it must be the pressure of the semi-finals. She has her own reasons for not wanting to be in the same bus with the Trebles, but she wonder's what's gotten Aubrey so riled.

"Damnit, alright," she concedes.

"Okay then, I'll just text him and we'll be-"

"Why don't you just call him? Wouldn't that be faster?"

"Um, no. Have you met Bumper? I'm not talking to him unless it's essential to the preservation of mankind," Amy says.

_'Not talking' my ass_, Beca thinks. And so, Fat Amy sends a text to their mortal enemies. Meanwhile, in the Treble bus...

* * *

"Dude, no way, man..."

Everyone hushes to hear what Unicycle has to say.

"The Lion King! Best, like, ever made."

Assent and dissent.

"Come on! Tell me you didn't cry at the stampede, you're a lying bastard!"

"Dumbo, man!"

"Ya'll are freaks, didn't you ever see Finding Nemo?"

"Toy Fucking Story Three. 'Nuff said."

And the discussion continues as to what animated movies pulled the heartstrings of the manly men of the Treble company. Jesse has a personal preference for The Tigger Movie, but he feels that the information does not quite merit a place in this conversation.

"Hang on man, one sec." Bumper whips out his phone and checks...

"Ho... Whoa now... " he says, amusedly. "W-hell, well well... looks like the Bellas got themselves into a bit of a road snag."

The Trebles murmur along the lines of how this was always meant to happen; it's the female drivers, not meant to be on the road in the first place... Jesse's ears pick up the keyword 'Bellas' and he immediately sits up.

"They want us Trebles, their hated and mortal enemies, to come pick them up, since there's (air quotes) 'more than enough space' on our bus."

The rest of the group disagrees. And so begins an even more heated discussion:

"Well..."

"No way. Less competition for us."

"They're not exactly competition."

"Why, do we have to? We don't have to, right?"

"Yeah, we don't have to."

"Leave them there."

The collective consensus seems to be that the Bellas brought this upon theirselves when they decided to exist as females in a world with vehicles, but only Jesse notices that Bumper seems to want to turn the tide. When he doesn't speak up, Jesse does.

"Hey, hey, look," Jesse silences the crowd, "I don't care what you are all thinking, we are going back for them. They're not more than a few minutes out and we've got plenty of time... and no, I don't wanna hear it, that is final. Donald?"

"We're here," Donald says.

"What, already?"

"No, I mean, we're _here_," Donald replies, as the Trebles notice that they are now parallel parking alongside the Bellas bus, the otherwise steely glares from the females on the other side of the road replaced with a look that says _We really don't know what to think right now._

* * *

"That was fast."

The Bellas notice the Trebles, and glares are exchanged... a bit half-heartedly as the Bellas don't exactly know how to go about thanking their worst nightmare for saving them.

"Okay, everyone, just... No need to thank them, it's their duty as gentle... it's their duty as men. Just be cordial, and we'll be fine. We'll thank them later, when we kick their asses," Aubrey primes them, not so sure of herself.

_This isn't going to be so awkward, like, at all_, Beca thinks.

Jesse is the first one off the Treble bus. He goes straight for the Bellas bus doors just when Fat Amy opens them.

"Ladies."

One by one, he ushers them down, holding their hands so they won't have to struggle down the large bus steps on their heels. Beca, of course, feels that impossible feeling at the base of her gut again. _God fucking damnit, why do you have to be such a gentleman._ Maybe he'll go away if she's the last one off the bus...

Jesse helps each of the Bellas out. Fat Amy is the first one off, and then Chloe (who gives him a soft look of thanks), Aubrey (who also looks at him... thankfully... ish) and the other Bellas. Beca isn't coming out...

When everyone is down, he peers inside to see Beca still sitting, staring outside the window. He sighs. _God fucking damnit, why do you have to be so stubborn._

"You coming?"

"I'm good, thanks," she coldly assures him.

"You know, if you don't come down, I'll be forced to go over there and carry you out myself."

Why. Why does he have to do these... things? She feels the infinite knots in her stomach turn in the impossible situation she's in. Why does he always have to swoop down and make her feel like a total mess inside? Why does she feel like she owes him so much, when she doesn't? He's giving her that ridiculously boyish smile and she just hates it. She finally stands up to get out of the goddamned bus because he might actually follow through with that stupidly romantic gesture, and he steps aside and offers his hand.

"Thanks, I got it," she says, not taking it. She's not going to make that mistake again.

* * *

Somewhere between settling down and getting on the bus, Bumper and Amy get into a heated debate about... a lot of things.

"So, what boring, estrogen-filled set have you prepared for us this evening?"

"Excuse me, but you are gonna get pitch-slapped so hard, your manboobs are gonna concave."

The Bellas and Trebles sit in rows facing each other, as though sitting in the same bus weren't awkward enough. Lily, though, had gone straight for the floor beside the driver's seat. ("Don't mind her, she's really like that.") Cynthia Rose and Stacie are already looking at the couples fight brewing between Fat Amy and Bumper, who, to no one's surprise, chose to sit next to each other.

"What we're gonna do, is gonna be so much better than what you dudes are gonna squirt out of your manboobs," Fat Amy says. It's a battle of remarks between her and Bumper, and she's got ammo a plenty for him.

Aubrey is a little more self-conscious than usual, and she refuses to sit down, of course, on account of how there are no more seats to be had. She stands over her Bellas, as though protecting them from the sheer amount of idiocy present in such a small, cramped space.

* * *

"You have no idea how many breasts I've signed. Three. Three pairs," Bumper brags.

"Yeah, well, you have no idea how many, um, ball sacks I've had to sign-"

"You sign ball sacks?"

"-They're like 'Hey, Fat Amy! So talented! You're a better soloist than Bumper sign my ball sacks!'"

"Nope. No. Oh, they said that specifically? 'You're a better soloist than Bumper sign my ball sacks'?"

"Yeah."

While the two of them argue who has signed the most inappropriate places, Jessica and Stacie turn their attention to a different source of sexual tension in the bus...

* * *

"Are they usually this way-" Jessica whispers to Stacie about the Jesse/Beca Stare-off Special they're witnessing.

"Shh, they're eye-fucking. Give them some privacy."

While the rest of the bus is busy being awkward, and while Amy and Bumper talk about manboobs and other body parts, Jesse and Beca are in the middle of their own little world.

Even though Jesse has tried so hard to look anywhere but, his eyes are naturally magnetized to Beca, who is sitting right across from him. He can't help but still see her beauty, even if she's been unreasonably cold to him (understatement of the year). He hadn't seen her as much since the regionals, and he misses her, from her perpetually messy hair to her incredibly sexy neck which is always emphasized by the Bellas yellow scarf, and the way she sits up straight and her smokey eyes and the curl of her lips when she tries not to laugh...

Beca, on the other hand, has barely glanced at him since earlier today, in the station with Luke. She doesn't want to encourage him (more like doesn't want to encourage herself and he looks so hot with his disheveled hair and he's looking at her with those adoring eyes again) and she hates it, so so much...

* * *

"I like to watch babies cry, during my leisure time," Lily says, leaning by the driver's seat, staring creepily into Donald's soul.

"That is funny, right?" Donald replies. Creepy, but funny.

* * *

Beca feels his eyes on her.

_He's probably wondering why I'm not looking at him._ So she stares right back, ice cold.

_Finally. _He smiles.

_What's so funny? _She cocks an eyebrow.

_Oh, what are we playing? _He smiles even more.

_Jesus, what the- _Eye squint.

_I just miss you, that's all. _Smiling like an idiot.

_Keep smiling like that and I swear to god... _She suppresses a smile of her own. _No. Damnit. Damnit. No. Poker face._ She looks away, biting the flesh inside her mouth.

She bites hard because she tells herself that she does not want this, that she doesn't miss him, and that he's not making her smile. At all. She had done what she could at the station, and she will not be held accountable if his heart breaks because of her, because fuck him. It's his fucking choice. They are not together, and if he can't take a hint, then that's on him.

* * *

After being silenced by Fat Amy's clever comment about dicks and choking hazards for small objects, Bumper takes out his phone and tries for a different comeback.

"I feel it's time for a warm-up fellas, what do you say, huh? Here we go..."

"_You can suck my balls,_" he tunes.

_"You can suck my balls," _the rest of the Trebles follow.

Fat Amy will not be undermined.

_"You can lick my ass," _she says, egging the Bellas on.

And so it starts, the warm-ups turning into a heightened game of mental retardation between the two literally opposing sides of the bus.

_"You can suck my balls."_

_"You can lick my ass."_

Higher and higher, louder and louder, as though pitch and volume would help them win in the competitions later.

* * *

Jesse might be saying something vulgar, but his eyes are communicating something else entirely as he looks intently at her. Beca, on the other hand, no matter how Jesse tries to coax it out, refuses to budge on showing any form of emotion.

_"You can suck my balls." I miss you._

_"You can lick my ass." I really don't care right now._

_"You can suck my balls." You look nice in your uniform._

_"You can lick my ass." You're not important enough for me to react._

_"You can suck my balls." You know, you're really cute when you try not to smile._

(Beca realizes the stupidity of the situation, warming up to these phrases in front of each other, and she feels her hold slipping.)

_"You can lick my ass." Okay, smartypants. We're going higher now. That all you got?_

_"You can suck my balls." I knew you couldn't resist._

_"You can lick my ass." _Eyebrow-raise, half-smile.

* * *

Bumper and Amy listen to their comrades trying to outdo each other to the musical intonation of sucking balls and licking asses, while the marathon of inapproptiate comebacks continues.

"You are gonna go down like a two-dollar prostitute."

"That's okay. Luckily, I have four dollars, I can get her twice."

* * *

"I like it when pretty boys dress up in drag and perform for me." Lily: Creeping Everyone The Fuck Out since 1991.

"Mmm, slow down, baby, we got all day." It's a good thing Donald's been around some pretty creepy fuckers himself.

* * *

_"You can suck my balls."_

The key is pretty high by now, and practically only Jesse is able to reach it. The rest of the Trebles have given up some three keys ago. Beca has also given up. But Jesse presses on against Aubrey's flawless upper register.

_"You can lick my ass."_

Beca furrows her brows at him. _How high can he go..._

Finally, Jesse's voice breaks.

_"You can suck-"_

"Ha!" Aubrey's shouts like a five-year-old, her competitive streak showing. The Bellas stare down at the Trebles, and Jesse gets snickers and pats on his back. The entire Treble group is holding back a laugh, poor Jesse. The rest of the bus seems rather entertained as well at his less-than-successful attempt at reaching soprano. This lightens the mood of all, except one...

Jesse tries to gauge Beca's reaction. He's aiming for a smile, a snicker, a chuckle, anything really, that might signal that they're okay. But nothing paints her face except a ghost of a look that Jesse might have well interpreted as regret.

They go on for nine more miles, the two aca-groups ready to square off in the semi-finals.

* * *

**AN: **This is a pretty long chapter, but that's so that I can have time to work on the later chapters. Reviews would be so great at this point. Seriously, though. I really hope you guys like it. :)

_Up next: Semi-finals, and the last straw..._

_Coming soon: Flashbacks. Lot's of them. And an explanation as to the significance of "Don't You"..._

_Coming sooner: Beca goes out with Luke_

**EDIT**

OMG, I am so sorry, I wasn't able to mention... Most of the lines in this chapter came from the extended version of the bus scene. I did not write them, they are from the movie itself. God, I have to start citing...

Anyways, I am so, so sorry for any confusion about that. Really. I'll be editing these properly now.

Thank you to Elle Tea for making me realize. :)


	23. 23: Bulletproof

"We're here."

Donald's voice resounds through the entirety of the bus, eliciting several sighs of relief. The bus ride had been tedious enough, especially since they are all in competition mode. Amy and Bumper had done nothing but tried to one-up each other, and no one had any idea if they were going to get at each other's throats or each other's tongues at any moment. The rest of the Trebles and Bellas felt particularly pained at sharing breathing space with the other group, and no one could be more relieved. Especially Beca.

One by one, they exit the bus, each one magnetized to a respective opposite direction, as though on cue from a higher power. Nature could not have designed more repelling poles than the Trebles and the Bellas. Though, that didn't stop Jesse from being his usual, gentlemanly self. After the Trebles have exited, he stays to be a footman to the Bellas, who nod curtly to him and give him their trust not to jerk them to the pavement when they give him their hands for him to support. Beca is, as usual, the last one out.

She doesn't look at him, she doesn't take his hand, doesn't even acknowledge his presence. She goes straight towards the Bellas, her mind intoxicated with her own self-administered cocktail of compensatory emotions, mixed with raw energy and focus on the task on hand. All that matters tonight is the set. That's all that matters. Nothing else.

Certainly not Jesse. Not how she feels when she's with him, and not the guilt she is trying to hide behind the intense fear. She will not think about his smile, his laugh, his attention to the smallest details when it comes to her. She doesn't think about how often she has found herself wanting to open up to him, and how she has pushed those thoughts away. She ignores the heavy feeling at the base of her gut (way, way down) telling her to reach for the back of his neck and pull him in and crash her lips against his and tell him she misses him. She masks it so well, that it doesn't even feel that way. It seems more like a strange, unpleasant feeling that needs to be thrown aside and dealt with in the harshest manner. But at the back of her mind, she knows. It's there. She just... doesn't want it to be.

So she fuels her hate-fire, as Amy would put it. She fuels it with all the confusing emotions she has and it manifests into a lust for success in tonight's performance. Her focus feeds itself from her subconscious need to be in control, especially with such tight competition. The Footnotes have established themselves as the greatest contenders next to the Treblemakers, and the Bellas don't stand a chance. Beca will not let that happen.

"Screw it, let's just do it."

Even Aubrey can feel the gravity of losing, pulling them down. _This shouldn't be_, Beca thinks to herself as she takes her place on stage.

_"One, two, three, four..."_

Their set parches Beca. She can almost feel the audience fall into a comfortable slumber, and the mocking sways of the Footnotes are more than she can take. They can do better. She can do better.

The need in her grows louder, and she's willing to give it a shot. She wants this to work, and she has to try to salvage this. (Although, the meaning of 'this' is apparently lost, as the impulse is misdirected at their set right now.)

_ "This time baby, I'll be... bulletproof..."_

Her improvisation catches even herself off guard. She feels a smile creep to her lips as she continues on and _tries_. Yes, it's fucking risky, and it's completely insane, but she has been needing-no, dying-to do something about the Bellas' losing streak. If they are to lose tonight, then that's fine. She will not feel guilty for failing to try. Not this time. Not for the Bellas.

Aubrey eyes her on stage, and Beca's satisfaction is doubled.

They end to the usual accompaniment of moderate applause, Beca feeling more unsure with every second of bowing on stage. But she has done right by herself. She feels that she had done right by her group, her friends. And they can't blame her for that... can they?

They exit the stage, and Beca feels that the group is pretty alright...

"What the hell, Beca? Were you trying to screw us up?!"

Of course, it would be Aubrey. Of fucking course.

"You serious?"

"Newsflash, this isn't the Beca show."

"Okay, I'm sorry that I messed you up, but in case you haven't noticed, everybody pretty much dozed off during our set-"

"It's not your job to decide what we do, or when we do it. Why don't you ask the rest of the group how they felt about your little improvisation."

Beca looks around to her fellow Bellas, the same girls she had been singing a Miley Cyrus with not five hours ago, and none of them would even look her in the eyes. Not a single one. She doesn't want it to, she tells herself this is utter bullshit, but this really hits her. Of all the things she feels right now, nothing can compare to the welcoming back of her old friend, _rejection_. She welcomes him with a resigned understanding that had been lingering in her thoughts with the familiar words _I told you so_.

"Amy?" It comes out as a plea and not a question.

"It was cool... but... it did take us a little bit by surprise."

"Yeah, a lot by surprise! I told you she wasn't a Bella."

To her disdain, Beca feels her heart break a little at that. Her walls are reinforced within the thirty seconds that it takes for Aubrey to come marching down on her attempt at putting effort into this whole a capella thing. As much as Beca hates it, she felt Aubrey's comment sting a little bit more than she wants it to. Damn herself. To find out that they had been talking about how she wasn't a Bella was something... unexpected. She's been getting a lot of 'unexpected's lately. And as usual, her automated response for anything and everything unexpected is an emotional shutdown. She makes a mental note to change her expectations after this.

"Your attitude sucks, you're a grad-A pain in my ass, and I know you're hooking up with Jesse."

"Whoa, whoa, Aubrey, calm down. We're not hooking up, I swear," Jesse says from behind her. She cannot deal with this shit right now.

"Jesus christ, that's perfect! Of course you're here right now!"

Of course, Jesse, the last person that she wants to think about, would be here, doing the last thing that she wants him to do: be his usual, kind self and come to her rescue, like all the fucking lot of this shit were happening because she's such a fuckup and she needs to get rescued all the fucking time.

"I don't need your help, okay? Could you back off!"

Benji comes out and calls the Trebles, but his words do not register. Beca's mind is lost in frustration, anger, and a medley of something else, and her walls keep her from fully feeling and understanding all the dastardly shit that is going on right now. She can't do this. Nope. Abort mission.

"If this is what I get for trying..."

She walks away, from the Bellas, from Jesse. She walks away from Benji's earnest entreatments after her. She walks away from everything she had unconsciously invested in for the last year. She drops it because she can't handle it. Her anger and frustration are the strongest of her emotions as she walks it off, her short legs going as far as she could muster them in the cold air outside. Her walls are still up a hundred percent, and it takes the rest of the way for them to lower a bit, gradually making her feel the other emotion that had been but a blur in the heat of the moment.

It was pain.

* * *

**AN**: It's a short chapter, because I was hoping I could draw attention to how Beca is feeling at this point. Next chapter will be longer, hopefully.

I'd like to take this time to tell ya'll how much I truly appreciate your reviews. Thank you for reading this. I did not expect I would even be finishing this haha. :))

Also, this chapter is an homage to a chapter from a different fic. The reason why I did not include Jesse's POV here is because I could never hope to top what one author had already done with regard to this point in the movie. So, for further reading, I would suggest Chapter 3: Decay of "Source Music", a collection of one-shots by AGoodnight. A wonderful one-shot from a brilliant author.

Again, thank you, so much, for reading. Reviews are always helpful and super encouraging. They mean a lot to me. Happy New Year, everyone. :)

_Up Next: Beca goes out with Luke._

_Coming soon: Day One at the station: extended version._


	24. 24: Best Friends and-or Lovers

**AN: **Disclaimer: A majority of the lines in this chapter comes from the extended/deleted scenes from the movie. As such, I did not write them. Though I did expound on them. So there. :)

* * *

Hushed inside the cab on the way to her dorm, Beca secludes herself from the rest of humanity as she tries to drown in thoughts of anger in order to deceive herself of the hurt. All the world can burn before her eyes, and she would not give two fucks as of the moment. She just needs to get away. For some strange reason, she recalls that Luke had invited her to the garage earlier that day. So she texts him as she goes back to her dorm, gets redressed, and heads out for the night to maybe drink her way out of the stupid choices she has made as of late.

She ends with a long line of college kids (the kind people associate her with), but she is too impatient to be a responsible citizen and wait her turn. It's good that Luke practically owns the place, with him being the British cool guy on campus and all.

"Hey," he catches her annoyed expression and the arms crossed over her chest. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just done with those girls."

He waves her to the bouncer and ushers her inside, a funky beat and swaying bodies mixed with Beca's own personal perfume of pissed-off-ishness and cold neutrality. Yup, this is the place for her. Where no one thinks and no one cares.

"Music is music," Luke says, weaving their way between rhythmic bodies. "The a capella stuff is just upsetting."

"When it's done right, it's actually pretty great." She doesn't know why she said that.

"Uh, 'great' is what you're doing."

They stand watch over the current DJ, elevated above everyone else. She's doing a moderate job, but Luke makes it a point to look at Beca so as to say _You know you can do better than even her._ He reminds her of how she is in charge with the booth during the spring break, and she smiles. This is good. She needed to be reminded of this tonight.

"...look, do whatever you want, but the booth's all yours, Becky."

Well, that's not right.

"It's Beca," she finally says, after almost one year of putting up with the wrong name.

"What?"

"My name's not 'Becky', it's 'Beca'."

"Well, that's weird. Why didn't you say anything?"

"I don't know," she says, her voice truly sincere. But of course, she's not referring to her name...

* * *

"You been standing there long?"

"No, no. I just got here. I wasn't... just standing here."

Luke had been a pretty face, but her mind had been too preoccupied with thoughts of hate against the world to even register. It's day one at the station, and Beca had been in a freshly foul mood for being in Barden in the first place. She had gotten an internship at the radion station because, while she was obliging her father by attending college, she wanted music more. And then he came along.

"Hey man, what's up, I'm Jesse."

"I'm Luke, you're late."

She knows him. He was that weirdo that was playing air guitar to Kansas earlier that day. She thinks he came with his overly-attached parents, driving him to college all the way from their rural little town in the middle of nowhere. God, he was probably homeschooled...

"Hey, I know you," he says to her._ Well, would you look at that._

"No you don't." For whatever reason, she doesn't want to be associated with this weirdo.

"Yeah, I do."

"He doesn't."

"Totally know her."

"Okay, well, you guys can figure it out when you're stacking CDs. When you're done, there's more," Luke tells them. _So much for music_, she thinks.

"Now, you guys will be spending a lot of downtime together, so please, just..." he raps his knuckles on the table, "no sex on the desk. I've been burned before," he says before he leaves the two of them alone. Beca has half a mind to tell him not to leave her with this possible psychopath.

"I do know you. I sang to you. I remember because you were in a taxi. Wait, is your dad a taxi driver?"

Beca doesn't even know how to react to that.

"No."

"Oh, okay."

She's in no mood to be agreeable today, just like she hasn't been quite agreeable for a while. Which is why, when he doesn't get the hint, she's more surprised than irritated.

"Luke's attractive, huh? Excellent bone structure, fancy British accent, really cool tattoos. I think we just met my nemesis-"

"This sucks. I wanted to play music," she cuts him to a more appropriate first conversation topic.

"Not me. I came here for one reason only: I really love stacking CDs. I was actually offered a job at a lab that tests the effects of marijuana on your appetite but I was like, 'No. I wanna stack CDs,' you know. Hopefully, in the vicinity of a semen-smeared desk because," and he gestures to the desk, "that is definitely what happened here, right?"

"It's too bad I don't have my blacklight, then we'd know for sure," she deadpans. He smiles at that. Clearly, she's one for his wit, and he's not going to pass up the chance.

"So, what's you deal? You one of those girls who's all dark and mysterious, and then she takes off her glasses and that amazingly scary earspike, and you realize that, you know, she was beautiful the whole time?"

"I don't wear glasses."

"Then you're halfway there," he says, biting his lower lip at her dead-on stare at his little antics as he replaces a CD. He usually plays this game with difficult girls, but this one is addictive. She won't even let on with a smirk, which is the bare minimum reaction that he has always received. This woman is something else.

"You're a weirdo," she says.

"Yeah, I am. And so are you. It's a good thing we're gonna be best friends and/or lovers."

"Please don't say lovers."

Normally, he would get a giggle or a no-way-in-hell reaction, but her sarcastic request makes him smile.

"You know, I wouldn't pass this up. Once I'm a Treble, probably won't have time for you anymore."

_Wow_, Beca thinks. _Dude, just... no._

"Wow. I didn't think there was a way for you to be less attractive to me, but congratulations," she says, moving back to the desk for more CDs. "You've managed it." She's smiling now. _Look at this asshole._

"Just wait. You get all squiddy, drape yourself all over me. It'll be fun."

_Did he seriously just say 'squiddy'? _Beca's brows are... what even.

"You'll see," he finishes, looking at her with those huge brown eyes, earnest in every way possible, and Beca lets on a smirk.

_Finally_, he thinks.

"So, Becky... it's 'Becky', isn't it? Or would you prefer to go by 'the dark lord satan'? I'm cool either way, though I might have to shorten the second one into 'TDLS', you know, because I'm trying to preserve my vocal chords."

"You're really talkative, you know that?"

"I do. And your point is?"

"No point, just... for your information."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

She obliges him by giving a half-smile held up by her sheer ballsiness and a penchant for having the last word. He can't hide his marvel at this girl, the bite of her one-liners daring him on. Their little duel makes him smile because at long last, he has found a worthy opponent.

"Anyways, Becky, I was thinking-"

"My name is 'Beca', not 'Becky'," she says, not even bothering to look at him.

"Really? Hmm." He moves over to one of the shelves. "I could've sworn I heard Luke calling you 'Becky'."

"He did. But that's not my name."

"Oh." He lets out a low laugh at an idea.

"What?" she asks.

"You know, how clever would it be if you never told him your real name."

"I did, but you interrupted," she adds, as she tiptoes to reach up and place Evanescence on the shelf with a tiny 'E' etched on the plank, barely noticeable.

"Did I? Oh... Cool. Woudn't want Luke to get the upper hand anyway," he says, as he saunters next to her, takes the CD from her hand and stacks it himself, his taller frame more suited for the job.

"Upper hand?"

"You know, him being my nemesis and all. At least, now, I know your name; he doesn't."

* * *

_Well, that's not the case anymore._

She doesn't know why she had listened to Jesse that day. She really doesn't. And even though she takes this as her own personal way of getting back at Jesse (she ignores the obvious question of 'what for'), the situtation is a little too awkward to savor anything. Telling Luke that he had been calling her by the wrong name, and that she had let him, for an entire year, is queerballs to the highest level. She tries to break the silence.

"Why did you decide to play my music, anyway?"

"Well, I finally listened to it cause Jesse kept bugging me. And... I thought it was solid. He's a relentless kid."

She nods at that, plastering a fake smile. Even when he's not physically present, Jesse keeps showing up everywhere in her life. She would think it serendipitous, were it not for her determination to be perpetually pissed off from now on. She has an image to uphold, after all.

"So I'm gonna go hang, you gonna be alright looking out for yourself?"

"Yeah." No.

She watches him as he walks away, leaving her with nothing but the beat to keep her company. Normally, she would be fine with that, but perhaps not tonight. Not with the thoughts of what she had left behind when she walked out of the competition. She looks around, and despite her coming here deliberately, never had she felt more lost in her life.


	25. 25: The Weight of Us

**AN: **Music: _The Weight of Us - _Sanders Bohlke

* * *

_"There are thieves who rob us blind, and kings who kill us fine..."_

Jesse does not go to the station the next day. He does, however, see her go inside. It's nice to know that the events of last night had not affected her usual routine. He, on the other hand, will have to go a different direction.

He walks away from the station, lest she sees him. Or he sees her. It doesn't really matter, as long as he can stay away. Spring break is almost upon them, and as much as he hates it, he dreads the time that he will have to spend alone, thinking about his severed relationship with the one person that matters at this point in his life. Perhaps it will do him good, having alone time.

_"But steady, the rights and the wrongs, and bathe us in innocent song..."_

The days grow longer, but not because of natural astronomical phenomenon. He feels her absence more than he feels the pain that she brought him, and all that sunshine is just dragging it out. He's not sure if he loves her; fuck, that was never even in the equation before now, but he changes his routine because she dumps their non-existent romance, and he's hurting, but he still cares enough to casually ask Luke about her, since he won't be dropping by at the station any time soon. And if she wants him to stay away, if that will make her happy, then he'll sail halfway around the world, hold his bleeding heart in his hand until it shrivels up. Well, shit. If he's not in love, he's certainly not out of it either.

_"I'm not ready... I'm not ready..."_

He turns a corner as he walks down the halls. It's the last day of school before break, and he bumps into her. Quite literally, as they play a little game of dodge-me-not and dance from left to right. She only looks him in the eye when he takes her shoulders, his thumbs brushing against her collarbone, as he moves them both into the general direction of not in front of each other. They stand awkwardly for a little while longer...

_"For the weight of us..."_

Their eyes meet, but it is devoid of words, of anything. Jesse's hands are still on her shoulders, and she would've pulled away, she really would, had she not glimpsed the desperation in his eyes. She takes him in, one last time, as his jaw tenses with all the words unfulfilled. He looks at her and studies her beautiful face, refreshing the sting of her recent outburst in his mind. He looks away. He can't do this. He excuses himself as he brushes past her.

_"For the weight of us..."_

He leaves her there, and only then does she realize that she has been holding her breath. She can't bring herself to move, can't even think, as soon as she had felt his hands on her skin, those same hands that she had countless observed in the station, with a microphone, gesturing wildly, pointing at her as he sings his soul out. She shuts her eyes, collects her breath.

_"For the weight of us..."_

She heaves a sigh, her frustration evident. The wave of the tension leaving nothing in its wake as she goes on her way, the heat of his hands on her shoulders imaginary.

_"For the weight of all of us."_

He walks as fast as is casually acceptable. He had lingered a little more on her skin, and had risked leaning down on her small frame and showing her how much she means to him. He had felt his heart race against his will, and despite being so damaged, he still wants her. He doesn't know how that's even possible, but he convinces himself that he should stop. This is not an option anymore.

_"There's a cold heart buried beneath. And warm blood running deep..."_

She walks as fast as she can, her heart racing to keep up with her legs and her emotions. Of all the things she could have bumped into, it would be him. Fucking aces. She works hard to ignore how his fingers had felt, how she had so wondered for the longest time, and now that they had come into contact, it had to be that she has made a solemn promise not to think of him ever again. She wants to scream at the universe, she wants to kick the living daylights out of the fucker who invented these feelings, but her automated response kicks in. She embraces the all too familiar cool of numbness. Whatever. That's her mantra now. Whatever.

_"Secrets are mine to keep. Protected by silent sleep..."_

He goes inside his dorm, kicks the door close, sits on his bed, and buries his head in his hands, all in one swift movement. Shaking, he opens his laptop to get his mind off of her. He had worked so hard to stay away, to keep his distance, because he is in serious need of an intervention. She drives him crazy, and his mind can't fucking handle it. So he puts on a random movie, sticks his earphones in, and pays more attention to _Mean Girls _than the movie had ever warranted out of him.

_"I'm not ready... for the weight of us."_

She gets to her dorm and stops, leans her forehead on the panel. She stays in that position for longer than she would care to count.

_"Time has come. Let us be brave..."_

He shuts down his compter just as Lindsay Lohan is about to hurl at the guy who looks sexy with his hair pushed back. Judging by the object of his thoughts, the movie had been unsuccessful at providing a distraction. He is still thinking about her.

_"Shake off all of your sins..."_

She finally opens her eyes, satisfied that her heart has stilled. She vows never to be affected like that again.

_"Time has come. Let us be brave..."_

He lies there, eyes on the ceiling, contemplating the blankness of it. He lies, completely still, hoping sleep would take him somewhere Beca does not exist. For once.

_"Let us be brave."_

She lingers on the edge of her dreams, the smooth caress of the strings lulling her deeper as the song serenades her. Her headphones leak out the final strains of melody as she falls asleep...

She dreams of him.

* * *

**AN: **I tried making the last two chapters into one long one, but it was difficult, so instead, I'll be posting multiple chapters whenever I update. I hope that's okay. :)

I know the last chapters seem rather heavy, but I'll be getting on with a few lighter parts later on, so yeah. Tell me what you think? :)

_Up next: Aubrey and Beca confrontation..._

_Coming soon: Donald and Lilly beat boxing..._


	26. 26: Spring Break

Spring break is today, and the whole of Barden is buzzing with over-eager parents and students, getting ready for a nice little getaway. Beca doesn't have any such thing to look forward to. She would much, much rather stick toothpicks up her fingernails than go to her mom's place for the pathetic excuse of a holiday. She tries to tell herself that this has always been the plan, this is how her life should be like in Barden: dry, uninteresting, boring. She should have gone for L.A.

She goes to the station to see Luke hosting his last program before spring break. After that, it's her booth to call. He turns to her from inside, a wide smile spreading at her, as she faintly registers that she's smiling as well, a robot response.

"Hey, you been standing there long?" he says, clearly alluding to the first time they've met.

"No. Just got here." She smiles back. Ish.

He gives her the keys to the station as he finishes up his program, gives a few pointers about how to run the booth...

"And this," he motions to a tall rack of CDs to the side, "is my private collection of movies. Feel free to rummage through, if you're feeling bored. Perks of running the station."

"Thanks." _But I don't watch movies._

* * *

_"I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose..."_

Beca has her headphones on, coming from the station. She passes by the empty stadium where they used to practice, and for some weird, fuzzy, sentimental voice in her mind, she decides to have one last look. It's not like anyone would be there anyway, since there's no need to practice because they didn't get into the finals.

She gingerly enters, like the ground were sacred as dictated by the Bella code, or some such shit. Nothing could have prepared her for what she is about to witness.

There she is, Aubrey, the woman who had been the object of Beca's multiple murder fantasies, sitting in the corner, crying her eyes out. Half of Beca feels this strange mix of feelings stirring in her, telling her to go over there. The other half is telling her to _run, bitch. Run_.

It's good that Chloe shows up then and there. Beca pulls down her headphones and sticks to the side, eavesdropping on the horrible things they might happen to say about her.

"Aubrey..."

As soon as Aubrey hears Chloe's voice, she throws herself at the other woman, hugging her and consequently staining her shoulder wet. Beca's eyes widen at such an un-Aubrey-like display of public affection.

"It's okay. There, there," Chloe murmurs between Aubrey's sobs that sound strangely like dying cats.

"I..._sniff_...tried..._sniff_...so..._hic_...hard..._sniff..._and got..._sniff..._so far...but..._hic_...in the...end..."

"It doesn't even matter," Chloe finishes from her shoulder. Walrus wailing from Aubrey. Beca is momentarily distracted by the fact that they just recited a line from a Linkin Park song.

"Oh god, they must hate me!" Aubrey says, at which Chloe pulls back and looks Aubrey squarely in the face.

"Don't say that. Don't do that to yourself."

"It's true! All that hard work, and I failed them!"

"They don't! They don't hate you."

"Beca does."

When Chloe does not counter that statement, Beca notices Aubrey's sad eyes, and the pain in her voice resonates with Beca. She knows that slight faltering, the tang of hurt. She would recognize that from anywhere. It's the sound of regret, of sorry, of so many things that can't be put to words, and the infinite need to communicate something impossible. She knows that pain all too well.

"I don't-I don't hate you." Le wild Beca appears.

Aubrey and Chloe are taken slightly aback, too stunned to react, so Beca continues.

"I don't hate you... just so you know." It's true. Though she dislikes Aubrey a whole hell of a lot, the woman works hard, is focused, and has a straight, if not misdirected, aim for excellence. She doesn't hate her, as much as she kids herself to.

"I know this must mean a lot to you," Beca adds, "and..."

_What to say what to say what to say..._

"...and you shouldn't blame yourself. Shit happens." Beca tries for a smile, which Aubrey wanly returns.

The tender moment doesn't last long, however, as Aubrey's phone rings. One look at the caller id has Aubrey back to depression mode. She hurries behind the white board (no longer the victory board, as Aubrey had erased everything) to take the call.

_Thank you_, Chloe mouths to Beca. She nods at that.

As she walks away, she can hear faint bits of Aubrey's conversation...

"Dad? I'm sorry... I know, I... No! It wasn't like that, she was just trying to..." And the tears and wails start flowing afresh. Beca stops in her tracks.

"Dad, I'm sorry..._sniff_... I'm sorry, okay. Please, it wasn't like..."

Beca can tell that the other line had dropped, because Aubrey lets out a dying whale noise, muffled by probably Chloe's shoulder.

As much as Beca hates to admit it, she wants to go over to Aubrey and just... do something. Be a friend. Whatever, just, anything. But she turns around and musters her will to walk away.

* * *

She's back in her dorm in a few minutes, listening to possible songs for new mixes, trying to wallow in a pool of regret for not being in L.A. as of the moment. It's better than wallowing in the other pool of being such a shitty friend.

_"I had a way then, losing it all on my own..." _Nope. (Reminds her too much of the Bellas.)

_"I let it fall, my heart. And as it fell, you rose to claim it..."_ No. (Too much of Jesse)

_"You chewed me up and spit me out, like I was poison in your mouth..."_ Hell no. (Too much of what she'd done to Jesse...)

_Damnit_. She takes off her headphones and sighs. Why does every little thing have to be like this? For a while, she just stares at the multiple programs open in both her computers, worried about what other emotional problems her next song lyrics would trigger.

"Happy spring break," Kimmy Jin tells her.

"Thanks." _This is so weird._

But she feels it, that small, sad voice in her mind. If Kimmy Jin could manage a greeting for the upcoming wonderful season of nothingness, why can't she give a genuine reply?

So, after deliberating, she decides to go downstairs, out in the quad for some fresh air.

* * *

Jesse has his bags packed, and he's waiting to hitch a ride in Donald's car, far far away from here. Loads of students are literally swarming all over the place as they get all get ready to leave Barden for a temporary getaway. Jesse is less than his usual optimistic self, the drain of his non-relationship with Beca taking a toll on every fiber of his being.

It all started with harmless flirting, albeit a little shameless on his part. It's who he is, he isn't going to apologize for that. Many a woman had swooned over his display of over-affection, only to back away once they realize he has a weird and nerdy side. Again, he's not going to apologize for that. But there was something about Beca that first day. Her heavy eyeliner and fuck-me-not attitude drew him impossibly close, until there was no other option. Suddenly, he found himself no longer flirting for fun, but with the serious intent to win her over and get on her good graces, because goddamn, she made it so difficult, and it was intoxicating. Gradually, slowly, painfully, he would get to know her. And even more so would she let him in. Because she cares. He knows she does. She has to. She wouldn't risk it that night in the regionals, would not have reacted the way she did. She wouldn't have shown him her mixes, wouldn't have made the effort to patch it up with him after that night in her dorm. She would not have let him coax her into watching The Breakfast Club in the first place. But all these is what gets him so fucking confused, because the Beca he knows wouldn't have so cruelly pushed him away either. Then again, if anything, he knows that he will never fully understand her. That's who she is, and he doesn't want her apologizing for it either.

He just wanted to help. But she wouldn't let him.

_"We touch, I feel a rush, we clutch, it isn't much, But it's enough to make me wonder what's in store for us..."_

Jesse wakes up from his thoughts to Donald's unmistakable rapping style nearby. He notices that a small crowd, including a few other Trebles, is slowly gathering around Donald as he performs an impromptu live session in the quad.

_"And love is evol, spell it backwards I'll show you..."_

At the next verse, a beatbox is heard. But it's not from Unicycle.

_ "Nobody knows me, I'm cold, walk down this road all alone,"_ Donald raps, with Lily beat-boxing right next to him.

_"It's no one's fault but my own, it's the path I've chosen to go..."_

Jesse is bobbing his head at the scene. He needs this, a temporary distraction from his thoughts' tendencies to mull over Beca too much. _Eminem_, he thinks. _Classic_. He knows this song all too well to pass up the opportunity.

* * *

Beca minds her own business as she strolls around, not wearing her headphones for once, lest she ends up with another fucking emotional line of lyrics. She immediately notices the small crowd of people circled around someone in the quad, and she casually strolls over for a closer look...

_"Don't ask me why I have no love for these mo'fuckin' hoes..."_

She stands at the edge of the circle, barely able to make out the figures at the center, though that's definitely Donald's voice... And is that Lily? Beca feels a smile slide on her face. Lily, beat-boxing. Who knew?

She listens to Donald's brilliant execution. And then, just like that, it isn't Donald who is rapping anymore.

_"It sucks but it's exactly what I thought it would be like tryin' to start over, I've got a hole in my heart from some kind of emotional roller-coasta'..."_

She circles around for a better view. She knows that voice.

_"Somethin' I won't go on till you toy with my emotions, so it's over, It's like an explosion every time I hold ya, wasn't jokin' when I told ya..."_

She finally sees him, and their eyes lock.

_"You take my breath away, you're a supernova, and I'm a..."_

_"I'm a space-bound rocketship and your heart's the moon. And I'm aiming right at you, right at you..."_ the Trebles sing, harmonizing perfectly with each other. Lily is still beat-boxing, but none of them seem to mind. In fact, she is getting a few impressed looks from some of them. Unicycle supports her percussions with his own.

The small crowd is evidently delighted at the raw display of talent from the Trebles, but none of that matters. Jesse, while still on the metaphorical grass stage, cannot bring himself to harmonize with the rest of the Trebles. Not with her, right in front of him. So he had forced the lyrics out of his mouth the moment their eyes met. He's not rapping anymore.

_"And I'm aiming right at you, right at you... Right at you..."_

He leaves. He leaves her with a sudden hole that she is unable to voice out.

* * *

**AN**: So sorry for the late update. Major writer's block. Like, major. But in any case. :)

MUSIC: _Titanium_ - David Guetta; _In the End_ - Linkin Park; _Lights_ - Ellie Goulding; _Set Fire to the Rain_ - Adele; _Part of Me_ - Katy Perry; _Space Bound_ - Eminem

_Up next: Donald and Jesse's car ride... etc..._


	27. 27: Human Donuts

_"She... She ain't real... she ain't go'n be able to love you like I will..."_ Donald sings, tapping away at the steering wheel in the bare minimum speed on the freeway. His face contorts ever so slightly at the higher notes. He's very serious about Adele. Jesse sits shotgun, his head turned towards the world in an attempt to make sense of the moving emptiness of the side of the road. Donald can't help but notice how Jesse is overly drawn to anywhere but here.

_"Bless your soul, you got your head in the clouds..." _he tunes, a little louder this time. Clearly, his friend is going to need more motivation to get distracted from his study of the car door window.

_"Like when we_ eat out, with burger and fries, and pizza is nice, and chicken surprise," he sings. Donald tries, he really does, but damn it, Jesse's unflinching dedication to the right side of the car is a little bit annoying. He doesn't even notice Donald's creative lyrical twists.

"Hey, what's going on with you, man?" he finally asks.

"Hmm? Sorry, what?"

"I've sung about strippers, fast food, and Italian Margaritas for the last thirty minutes. I don't even know what Italian Margaritas are, it's like you're not even in the car."

"Really? What song is that?" His mind is slow today.

"Never mind."

"No, not never mind," a voice from the back seat says. Jesse mentally heaves a heavy sigh. Bumper had asked to hitch a ride, and Donald, being the nice guy that he is, had let him. So it came to be that Jesse, who was looking forward to talking to Donald about certain bothersome details in his life, has to share car space with a horrible, horrible person.

"Come on, dude. You've been nothing but rains the past few days. What gives. It's not good for the vibes, yo. Give us the lowdown, what's up." Bumper says all this without looking up from his cellphone and without looking remotely interested in anyone else's life except his own.

Jesse shoots a look to Donald. _Not in front of him._

Donald get's it. _Alright, hang on._

"Hey, Bumper. You heard? The Biebs' got a new album, just came in today," Donald says, as he pulls out his ipod from the dock on the dashboard and hands it to Bumper, who had immediately perked up at the mention of his favorite singer.

"Don't mind if I do," Bumper replies, placing the earphones in. Jesse and Donald communicate by manner of facial expressions.

_Bieber? The fuck?_

_Trust me, you do not want to know._

They drive for a few more minutes, before Donald speaks up.

"You gonna tell me?"

"It's stupid, man."

"Damn right, it is," Donald says. He knows, he didn't really have to ask, but he has to talk some sense into his friend. "This thing that you're doing, with the Moulin Rouge soundtrack and the whole Danny Elfman piano suites, I have to say, this is getting a little out of hand. I'm sorry, but-" and he shakes his head disapprovingly, "It's like someone took a dump on your... life."

_That is exactly how it feels, _Jesse thinks. They pass by Keane's Gas Station, and Jesse cringes. He recalls the bus ride to the semi-finals, and all at once, the waves of hurt come back like a fucking tsunami, and it-

"You're doing it again."

"Sorry," Jesse says, trying to shake it off. "I just... I don't know anymore. I don't know what she wants, or why she's acting so crazy all the time. She pushes me away like I'm..."

How? How does he explain what he is to her, when he doesn't even know?

"...nothing." That is the best Jesse can come up with at the moment.

"You need to stop this."

"I know..."

"No, I mean _this_," Donald says, motioning to Jesse's over-all person. "You're getting too caught up with her, man. If she wants her space, just let her have it. You're not her boyfriend."

That hurt. That really hurt. But it's also the truth, and Jesse knows this. Donald has always been the one with the sage advise (he's the only sane senior in the group), and Jesse appreciates his thoughtfulness on the matter. Still. That hurt like shit.

"What about you and Lilly? I didn't know you were dating a Bella," Jesse says, trying to change the topic. Donald lets him.

"Naw, man. Lilly's nice, but we're just friends."

"'Just friends'," Jesse practically scoffs the words out of his mouth. "What does that even mean?"

He can't help it. Everything reminds him of Beca. Everything. He wonders if it's the hormones or the fact that he so desperately wants back into her life, or maybe the thought that she doesn't like him the way he likes her is too much for him to handle, or maybe it's that he knows that she likes him, she just doesn't want him. Everything's a mess, and he's miserable and agitated and a part of him wants to get into a road accident just to see if it would affect her. Then again, she'll probably just ignore him, as per usual.

"Again, stop relating everything to Beca." Donald is sterner this time. "Let her do her thing. I cannot emphasize this enough. I get it, okay? You're half in love with her when she tells you that, basically, it's over. And you two weren't even together, and 'Ow, my heart hurts!' and 'Why can't she just love me?' and all that shit. Trust me. I get it. But you need to get over this. That shit's not healthy."

As he says it, Jesse feels the hurt emanating from Donald's voice. He lets a brief moment of silence pass before he decides to ask.

"Speaking from experience?"

Donald sighs, and it's a deep, meaningful one, Jesse can tell.

"You could say that."

Jesse doesn't press for more, though he wants to. Donald has a point. He is not, and will probably never be, her boyfriend. He should know better than to turn her over again and again in his mind.

"And if I hear 'El Tango de Roxanne' one more time, I swear to god, I'm telling Bumper you ate his burrito last Tuesday."

"Hey, that was Unicycle."

"You've been warned."

Jesse is grateful for this. Another slight distraction from Beca. Maybe he'll learn not to take it to heart so much. Eventually.

* * *

"What's up... bitch? I was debating whether or not to use 'aca', since, you know..."

Beca looks up from her computer. Fat Amy is standing over her, looking around in the empty quad, smiling down at her.

"Hey." Beca is a little surprised that Amy is talking to her, but alright.

"And for the record," Amy says, as she plops down beside her with a box of food, "I don't agree with what you did at the semi-finals, but I figured you'd want some company. Like food," She gives Beca a nice little shove with her shoulders, which nearly knocks her off-balance and produces a semi-chuckle out of her.

"What are you doing here? Aren't you in spring break?"

"I could ask you the same question," Amy says, as she opens the box, revealing small, people-shaped donuts.

"Well, you know me. I'm a sucker for Barden. You?"

"Plane tickets. Too damn expensive, if you ask me. I wanted to stay in the luggage compartments, but the plane people wouldn't allow it. Policies, or some other shit." Amy picks up a donut and turns it over in her hands, brows furrowed. "There's some serious existential crisis going on with these donuts. I mean, which do I bite first? The head, the arms..."

Beca takes one from Amy's box, in any case, and munches away. She doesn't even try to tell herself that she doesn't miss this, like, a whole hell of a lot.

"So, what've you been up to lately?" Beca asks with her mouth full, wiping the smears of confectioner's sugar off her face.

"Eh, the usual. You know, man-hunting, dick-grabbing, extra-curriculars... I got into the swim team, not literally, though. Just like, had a couple of 'diving' lessons-"

"Okay, forget I asked," Beca cuts, not liking the image while she's eating. Or in any other circumstance, for that matter.

"I could ask you the same thing. But I won't. 'Cause I know you'll never admit to being miserable," Amy says, between chewing. She finally decided to go with the right arm.

"I'm not miserable." Beca is suddenly defensive.

"Ergo, not asking." Amy rolls her eyes. Duh.

But Beca won't let this go. "Is that why you're here right now? Because you think I'm miserable?"

In response, Amy rolls her pupils to anywhere to avoid meeting Beca's eyes. She's not gonna answer that.

"Seriously?"

"Well, also, skinny bitches like you need some nutrition, because you're... _clearly not getting any,_" Amy adds.

She stresses each of the four words and the look on Beca's face when she realizes is one of absolute WTF.

"Okay, I don't know where you got that from, but... seriously? '_I'm not getting any'_?"

"It doesn't take rocket science to compute you, minus..." Amy stops, because Beca has now changed her expression to say _Go on. Say his name. I dare you._

"Look, I gotta run," Beca says, packing her stuff up, suddenly feeling ultra reclusive at the hint of the one person she doesn't want on her mind. "I'll see you around, Amy."

"See you," Amy shouts back at a quickly retreating Beca. "Shit," she whispers under her breath, as she takes out her cellphone to make a call.

"Operation 'Human Donuts' is a no-no. I repeat..."

* * *

_"...operation 'Human Donuts' has failed. What are we going to do?"_

Chloe bites her lip at Fat Amy's news. Ever since Beca's runaway stint at the semi-finals, Chloe has been trying to work out a way to get her back. They might not be winning this year, but they need her. The Bellas are a cohesive group, and they've grown together. It's not fair to give up on Beca because of a little spat she had with Aubrey. Chloe sees the potential in Beca, especially when it comes to leading the team when they're gone. And she will find a way to get Beca back into the Bellas.

If only she can fix things between Jesse and Beca first.

* * *

**AN: **Erm, it took longer than I expected. Sorry guys. Still suffering from a bit of a block. But in any case, I'll try to update every two or three days. (the key word being 'try') :))

I love Donald, in case you haven't noticed already. He's one of the best, but underplayed, characters in the movie, and yes, his story will be explained. :)

The thing about Bumper liking JB is a headcanon from another fic, called "Pitching it Perfectly." Just putting this out there. (and at the risk of sounding like a total creep, this entire fic is kind of like an homage to that one, so yeah. I don't even know if I'm allowed to do that... people do that, right? I'm a total creep.)

Shameless self-plug: I wrote a new story, which I will also be updating soon...

_Up Next: Amy's plan B, and station flashbacks._

Songs:

Rumor Has It - Adele

El Tango de Roxanne - Moulin Rouge soundtrack

**EDIT**

I got a guest review about Chloe not being able to speak because she's having surgery over her nodes, so to clarify, this chapter is at the very beginning of spring break. She is about to go to surgery, which is where Amy comes in.

Also, funky stuff happened, no updates for a while, I am afraid. :(


	28. 28: Wild Child

**AN: **Here come the flashbacks...

And okay, I know I said Amy's plan B was next, but things got a mind of their own...

* * *

_I am not miserable. I am not miserable. I am not miserable..._

Beca trudges to the station, determined to make something of her first night shift. Her conversation with Amy at the quad was pretty revolting. Amy had effectively tried to bribe her with donuts into admitting feelings. _Feelings_...

So, it has come to this.

While Beca is usually not the sentimental type, the word "feelings" is starting to grow on her. She's not exactly big on getting in tune with her emotions, so she hates it. And then that day at the quad, the way Jesse had looked at her, filled with so much emotion...

Feelings. _Ugh_.

So she sets up her walls. And she keeps them up. She walks the sad walk towards the station, the entire campus echoing completely nothing. And she enters the station, the completely empty station. And the equally void booth. And everything is just so hollow.

Most especially in her chest.

She pauses a moment to try to absorb any semblance of satisfaction from finally getting to sit on Luke's chair, but her consequent smile comes from looking at the screen, realizing Jesse had been here, too. After he had so gone against Luke's explicit orders, just to get her music played on air.

She puts on her headphones, shoving that little thought aside.

...

* * *

_"Someday, when I'm awfully low, and the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you... and the way you look tonight..."_

Jesse sings from the makeshift stage at the pre-halloween mixer, his smooth voice adding to the over-all semi-formal tone of the party. No a capella tonight, as the Trebles are simply here to provide live mood music. It's the week after the godawful Breakfast Club catastrophe known only as the non-kiss. Beca had already given him her CD, but she hadn't spoken to him since the night he walked out with an awkward nod. Hell, she's barely been able to actually encounter him, on account of how she's been avoiding him the whole lot of the time. But today is a Bella-mandated party which Aubrey had threatened them about on pain of heel-time (which is another word for Aubrey's preferred brand of Bella torture).

So she's here. Sipping from her red cup of punch (_This better be spiked really well..._), trying to look inconspicuously _not_ interested in how Jesse is basically dropping everyone's panties. And maybe even a couple of boxer briefs.

_"With each word, your tenderness grows, tearing my fears apart, oooh..."_

She may or may not have dressed extra spiffy for the occasion, because she may or may not have heard that the Trebles would be singing tonight, and she may or may not have secretly hoped to hear Jesse sing. (She may or may not have missed him.)

_"There is nothing for me but to looooove you... and the way you look tonight..."_

Jesse is caressing the mic stand, and Beca could swear she heard some kind of moaning from the audience.

For this special occasion, Beca had borrowed something nice from Jessica, since her wardrobe consists of garments that imply a hatred for any and all things... special. Beca has never really been one to keep any form of girly clothing whatsoever, so Jessica had let her borrow a lovely, black sequined dress. Yes, it's a dress. Yes, okay, it's sparkly. But hey, it's black. She hasn't _totally_ conformed.

The instrumental comes on, and Jesse does this charming, swaggy little impromptu dance on stage, but his eyes are searching the audience...

How he always happens to lock onto hers is simultaneously creepy and sweet. Beca chalks it up to her imagination that Jesse had smiled even brighter the moment he catches sight of her.

_"Oh, and that laugh that wrinkles your nose, and touches my foolish heart..."_

He sings in her direction, and a number of girls in front of Beca get really giggly. Beca puts the cup to her lips to avoid showing how he's making her smile. (Also, she may or may not have bitten the cup.)

_"Keep that breathless charm, won't you please arrange it cause I loooove you... and the way you look... tonight..."_

Jesse stands still, a bit more serious as he delivers the final line. Still looking in her general direction.

_"Just the way you look... toniiiiiiiiight."_

If his first lines had dropped the girls' panties, that last falsetto finishes the job.

He smiles to the applause of everyone, but he's waiting for her seal of approval. He gets down from the stage and walks right past a number of goo-goo-eyed girls, straight to where Beca is trying to blend into the back of the room. When he's close enough, she gives him a good, slow eye-roll from behind the (empty) cup pressed to her lips.

Donald takes the stage next, singing his rendition of Thrift Shop.

* * *

"Hi," Jesse approaches her, looking awkward as fuck, but really happy to see her.

"Hey..." She draws the word out, the teasing in her voice evident.

"So..."

"You were really into the mic stand right now. Is there something going on there that you wanna tell me?"

His eyes brighten at her oh-so-familiar wit. He really is happy to see her, be with her. Even now, he feels them getting back to their comfortability around each other.

"Yeah, about that, didn't wanna drop the bomb on you just yet, but we're planning to elope."

"Wow. That was fast. You sure you're not jumping into things? Does Bumper know about this mic-stand affair?"

"Oh, he introduced us."

"The bastard."

And just like that, they know that the debacle of last week need never be spoken of again.

* * *

This being one of the few nights that the Bellas and the Trebles get together without being required to kick each others' asses at singing, a whole lot of members from each aca-group seem to be really enjoying themselves. Alcohol does amazing things for one's tolerance of arch-enemies.

Stacie is watching Donald perform, and if it weren't for Cynthia Rose's dare ("Betcha can't keep your _hunter_ down for just one night."), she would probably be all over the stage right now. Lilly is beside Stacie, also watching Donald get his groove on. Ashley and Jessica are debating about Taylor Swift's boob job and it's impact on current political economy, while Aubrey is in the far corner of the room (standing suspiciously close to Unicycle). Cynthia Rose and Denise are nowhere to be found. Bumper is ordering Hat to give him more beer, and Amy is with Chloe, the two of whom backed away from Beca as soon as Jesse had finished his serenade.

* * *

"You wasted yet? How's your balance? Feel like shouting anything? No? Not the king of campus anymore?" Beca teases, recalling Hood night and how Jesse had been quite the droopy-eyed alcoholic.

"Whaaaat? When have I ever _not_ held my alcohol?"

Her smirk is one of absolute delight.

"Oh my god, you really don't remember..."

"Don't remember what?"

_Oh, this is going to be so precious._

"Hood night? Aca-initiation? You were really drunk. You told me we would be having aca-babies... aca-children... aca-offspring or something."

"Yeah, I think that rings a bell-"

"Also, I flashed you, and you saw... (she takes a moment to count on her fingers) I think, it was two tats. Or was it three..."

Jesse's face looks like it was dipped in tomato sauce. _This is way too much fun...  
_

"I also told you that Luke and I were getting married. Didn't you get the invite?"

"Oh. Ha ha. Very funny. That's- you should really get into comedy."

"You think I'm joking?"

"No, I think you're overflowing with shit."

* * *

Meanwhile, Donald has just finished his solo, and is walking off-stage to the lusty looks of a number of women, Stacie included. (Then again, when it comes to lusty looks, Stacie is always included.) Surprisingly, instead of going over to the Treble-area of the room, he walks on over to Amy and Chloe, near the punch bowl.

"'Sup, Bellas," he nods, getting himself a cup.

"Hi, Donald."

"'Sup, turd burger."

The three of them form an unusual bond around the bowl, as though there were some kind of alcoholic bubble surrounding them near the punch table. Bumper takes the stage and sings, would you know it, Beiber's _Baby_.

* * *

"For your information, we were required to get drunk-"

"Right."

"-I vandalized a bus. That, I remember. Did some of my best artwork."

"Such a rebel. Did you sign your name? Trace your hand on it at least?"

"I feel like doing something really stupid tonight... Wanna be my partner in crime?"

He looks at her with such doe eyes, eager to do something "crazy", probably along the lines of wasting a lot of tissue rolls. It's the child in him, this dork that's coming out so effortlessly. He has always been more in touch with his inner child than she had ever been. That desire to be a child, to _have_ a childhood, is something that secretly draws Beca to him, and she finds herself adoring his enthusiasm for everything.

"Are we talking, like, minor offense, or major?"

"Major. For sho'."

"Oh, you mean like," she leans close and whispers, "drawing dicks in the bathroom stalls?"

* * *

While Bumper does a semi-tolerable version of the monstrosity of a song, Stacie and Lilly discuss their types of man.

"I'm not super specific about body type, but he has to be _big_... Like,_ super big_... on the inside, I mean," Stacie adds, as soon as Aubrey joins them.

"He needs to like geckos," Lilly says from behind her cup, and it comes out like a little gurgle of sorts.

"Hey, Aubrey, what's your kind of man?"

"Oh, you know. Typical. Smart, nice, kind. Musical, of course."

"Like a Treble?" Lilly asks, genuine curiousity painting her eyes. For the first time, they hear her.

"Ha! Nice one!" It wasn't meant to be a joke, but Stacie chuckles anyway and high-fives Lilly's head. Aubrey looks mortified.

"Joking!" Stacie counters, but she likes this conversation. "Come on, Aubrey. Don't give us that 'dream guy' crap. You're totally holding out on us."

"What's there to say?" Aubrey says. "I guess I just haven't found the right one yet." There is a little more disappointment in her tone.

"Yeah, but what's your type?"

"You go first." Aubrey's deflecting skills are top-notch.

"Oh. Well, I was saying, I don't really care about, like, you know," and she gestures over her physique. "As long as he's _good where it counts_. You know what I'm saying?"

"Ah. Unfortunately."

"I mean, I know I might look like I'm picky, but I'm really not," Stacie adds, with a flip of her hair. "But abs are always, like, a plus."

Aubrey chokes on her punch a little bit.

* * *

Down by the beverages, the punchbowl trio have a conversation of their own.

"Easy for you to say. You've got a permanent man-popsicle wrapped around your twig finger."

"That's not true. Tom is- I mean, he's got his own life. We both do. It's a healthy relationship."

"That man will shit cutlery for your giggles."

"Well..." Chloe blushes at the mention of her boyfriend, despite the imagery it accompanies.

"'Bout you, McNuggets? Who're you tapping?"

"Amy, don't be rude..."

"It's fine. I'm tapping my X-box, by the way."

"Sweet."

They wait a moment to let the awkward pause go by.

"It's sad, actually," Donald huffs. Chloe gives him a pat on the back, while Amy nods _Yes. It is quite sad._

"Well, I could give you my number," Amy offers.

"No, thank you." _I'd rather not share with Bumper.  
_

"Ayt."

Chloe pretends to hear jack shit.

* * *

"Come on, it'll be fun!" Jesse says to a still-sober-but-almost-there Beca.

"Really don't feel like going to jail right now. Or ever."

"You're not going to jail, I promise. I'll take care of you. Even in prison, if I have to."

"You say that now, but _prison changes people_," she says, making sure to sound super serious about that last part.

"Do you want me to beg, is that it? Because I will. I will go down on one knee and plead for your company on this joint venture. Don't tempt me."

She rolls her eyes. "You just want a mug shot."

"Can't say it hasn't been a dream of mine."

She scoffs. He is such a kid.

"Look, I'm not stopping you," she says, after a sip. "Go fulfill your dreams, I'll be right behind. I might film you, but I won't stop you."

"You won't even drive my getaway car?"

"Why would I do that, I want you to get caught."

"I mean so little to you, don't I?"

It is so obviously a joke, a harmless little quip, the way he always does when she's being snarky and difficult, but Beca knows that all jokes are half-meant.

"That's not true," she whispers from behind her cup. Out the words go, so fast before she's had time to actually process that information. It's barely a decibel, but she did say it. Perhaps it's the alcohol, finally working it's magic on her, slowly eating at her brain-to-mouth filter. Perhpas it's how much she thought she had lost him after rejecting him not so long ago. Perhaps it's her subconsious, finally coming out of its shell. Perhaps he really does mean something to her. Perhaps she just wants to tell him so.

"What was that?" he asks, suddenly tensing.

Beca's walls are up before he finishes his sentence.

"Why is it so important if I come, anyway?" she asks, changing the topic. She is so cool, it's dry ice. "I'm sure you can pull off a homicide, no hitch."

"Yeah, but it's no fun without you."

Beca knows just how much she's missed him since that outstanding kiss fail. And it should take her a lot more thought, really. Not because he's basically proposing they do something illegal, but because she knows she shouldn't encourage him. Not in their relationship. Not with her. She should really think this through.

But she doesn't.

So she swallows the last swig of her punch in one swift movement. "Fine." _Damnit, Jesse._

The look on Jesse's face implies that he didn't really expect her to say yes.

"Really?"

"No, I just said that to throw you off. Now let's go before Aubrey sees."

...

* * *

Beca tries to get her mind off that night. Or any other night, or day, or moment that involves Jesse. But this only lets the silence ring louder as she walks home after her first night shift at the station. She's tired, it's late, and she had had her dose of music. But somehow, it's gotten to the point that she's constantly finding music lacking. If it had been enough for her before, Jesse had changed that. The Bellas had changed that.

_Stupid feelings._

* * *

**AN: **Er... sorry?

I know it's been a while. I usually update this every day, or every two days, but I got major writer's block. I'm talking, like, boulder huge. But I'm back. I realize that I've got quite a few more chapters for this, but I do intend to finish it. It's flashback time, from the awkward moment, all the way up to the costumed holiday transitionals, up to this moment.

Thank you for reading. No, really. I didn't expect this. Thank you. :) Ya'll inspire me.

_Next up: Part 2 of this flashback_

_Coming soon: Valentine's day_

Music: The Way You Look Tonight - Frank Sinatra; Thrift Shop - Macklemore; Justin Beiber - Baby


	29. 29: Aca-Heart

"Let me guess. They get the shark."

"I'm not gonna spoil it for you. My lips are sealed, you'll just have to watch it yourself."

"Right. They totally get the shark. Why did I not see that coming?"

Beca and Jesse walk under the blanket of darkness as the sounds from the mixer fade off the farther they walk, with Jesse leading the way, hands in his pockets.

To say that he really likes this, walking with her under the moonlight, would be more than a slight understatement. He may not show it, but being away from her had been like being deprived of water. Granted, Beca is more like lemon concentrate than water, but that's besides the point.

"Do not mock the clichéd ending of one of Spielberg's masterpieces."

"Spielberg? What's that?"

She never fails to find ways to shock him, especially when she spews out her classic one-liners. In the face of her blatant ignorance of his favorite cinematic icons, it's those little details about her that are so ridiculous, so absurd, that really get to him. Like how, right now, she's wearing kitten heels. Which she never does. But she doesn't take his arm, either. Which she used to do. That night in her dorm had changed the dynamics of their relationship, and he knows it's his fault. So he walks on, avoiding the overwhelming urge to stare at her because _she is so beautiful tonight_, grateful of the fact that, despite all the shit, they are still friends.

"I can't believe I'm friends with you," he says, and he means it.

"Yeah, well, I'll need a letter of resignation when you decide I'm not worth it anymore."

He has to bite his tongue, remind himself not to do anything creepy or show more than he should. The last thing he wants to do after the events of last week would be to come across as hopelessly devoted to her. Which he is. (Again, that's besides the point.)

"I'll keep that in mind," he answers instead, walking backwards to face her. He leads the way, giddy and a little skippy (Beca calls it his "shitballs crazy" mode) and after a few more minutes, they finally reach their destination.

"Oh. Wow. This is... just..."

Beca stands awkwardly, hands crossed in front of her from the chill of the night air, while Jesse walks towards the station, the same workplace that they see almost everyday, together, like, _all the time_. For all the crazy ideas that Jesse has had, this has to be the one thing that is truly, truly stupid. Especially because he had promised a night of "wild debauchery", and Beca already had incredibly low expectations. But really, breaking into the station? _Really?_

"...so bad," she says, moving next to him as he takes out his phone and places it in his mouth as a flashlight. His hand flies to hair ("Dude, what are you-") and he takes out two of her hairpins. Beca looks absolutely disgusted as he crouches a bit to try to pick the lock. Poor Jesse. So deprived of excitement in his life.

"If this is your idea of a wild night out, I feel really sorry for you."

"Urfst hmoo hfait," he answers, the phone in his mouth hindering his speech capabilities.

"This is... _so badass_, I've got to hand it to you. It's almost like drawing dicks in the bathroom. _Almost_."

"Hfrtervher, hfreca."

"Congratulations for once again lowering my standard for lame. You are constantly setting records."

"Hfrour shfelcome."

Beca huffs and looks around, because they really do look like thieves in the night, and god forbid if they actually got caught; no way can they sweet-talk their way out of what Jesse is so obviously doing.

She rolls her eyes, not realizing how this really stupid thing is actually amusing her. Jesse's brows are furrowed in intense concentration in actual effort to try to pick a lock with her hairpins. _Hairpins, for gods sakes_. She gives him a few more minutes.

"Have you ever actually done this before?"

When he doesn't answer, she's even more amused.

"Dude..."

He looks up at her, eyes wide and a little peeved she's distracting him from living his dream to be Nick Cage in National Treasure. _What?_

She just shakes her head and puts on her famous _What the Fuck_ face like it's all she really needs to say.

"Oh my god," she finally says. She practically jerks his arm out its socket as she leads them to behind the building.

"Hmpphere are you taking me?" he says, spitting out his phone. She leads them to the back door, where she (lo and behold) breaks glass with her elbow and unlocks the knob in one swift movement...

Jesse's open mouth can fit a fist.

"You coming, nerd?" she calls, already going inside.

* * *

"It's really too bad I don't have my black light on me," she says, going over to the desk. The booth is on a pre-queued list, and the mellow strains of The Script's _Science and Faith_ is playing in their background.

She's sits on the No-Sex-Desk (a habit she's acquired from him) and goes through a few albums, while he wanders around the empty station...

This is definitely not their station anymore. Night had changed it into a different entity altogether, and Jesse was right to choose here, of all places. The blue of the screens from inside the booth mixes with the subtle yellows of a few lights open. The place is unrecognizable. Surreal, even.

"So, what now?" Beca asks, setting aside the soundtrack for Say Anything. Jesse emerges from behind one of the shelves and just shrugs.

"Seriously?" Her eyes are mocking him. "_This_... is it? This was your grand plan for tonight?"

He joins her on the desk, sitting beside her and he doesn't really have anything else to do but look apologetic and smile the disarming smile she has always loathed and loved.

"Sorry," he starts. "I didn't really think this through. I was hoping for a dead body by the end of the night, but I'm no criminal mastermind. Unlike you." They take a few moments to appreciate this _insanely wild and reckless night of shenanigans and other outrageous behavior_, sitting in an empty station on a semen-smeared desk.

"This... is actually pretty great," she says, suddenly mindful of how it's nice to have the whole place alone to themselves. It's like being on a different plane of existence, where all the fucking shitty cares in her world don't exist, and it's him and her. Just them.

They let the silence cover them and it's both scary and amazing to Beca how this feels so, completely... _fine_. With the gentle hum of Kris Allen's voice tying the echoes of their breaths together, it occurs to her that it's a strange phenomenon, how she feels right now. There is no silence that can ever love her back as much as she loves this one, in this moment. With Jesse. Sitting together, side by side, the one person that she could actually _almost_ admit to caring for...

* * *

With the harshness of nothing in the still, cold air, Jesse is terrified that his heart rate would pump loud enough for Beca to hear, to realize just how deep a shit he is actually in. It was never his plan to be here. Truth be told, he had no plans whatsoever into the night. But, _Beca_...

That she had showed up at the party was the most pleasant surprise, and he had almost lost concentration over his lyrics, mind going blank at her little black dress. But since she had put some effort into showing how she doesn't hate him, he is more than eager not to disappoint.

She has a way of making and breaking him with her eyes and her frowns and the sharp cuts of her words, and yes, he is attracted. So desperately, irrevocable attracted to the woman who would barely give him the time of day. It's the cliché of clichés, really, and he should know better. It is at this exact moment that it hits him: he is falling. He's falling _hard and fast_, no safety net, no parachutes. Just him and her gravity. And if her actions last week are any indication, this cliché, this _thing_ of theirs might not end the way he was hoping it to. He needs to save himself...

"Beca..." he starts. They need to talk about last week. He needs clarity, _goddamnit_. He knows where they stand. But he needs to hear it from her.

"Hey," she cuts him off, "is it okay if we don't talk?" She turns to look at him, really look at him.

And there she is.

This is Beca. For the briefest and most sacred of moments, she has her walls down to their lowest, and her eyes tell him all he needs to realize how hopeless he is, how pathetic. She looks at him as though to say everything he has ever wanted to hear from her, and everything he had considered _impossible_ to hear from her, communicated through her eyes, now empty of any mockery or sarcasm or bitterness, or any of her defense mechanisms. This is the first he's ever seen her. This is her, telling him that he doesn't need to say anything, and that she doesn't need to hear it. This is her, telling him in the only way she can, that even if she didn't kiss him back, and even if she never will, _this_... whatever _this_ is, is theirs. And no one else's.

"Okay." A single word can only hold so much...

_Okay. You've taken me. I give up. I don't know what you've done, but I don't think I've got a choice now. I never expected this, never wanted this. Hell, didn't really think about it, but you surprised me. Oh god, how you surprised me._

_You hold back like every smile costs you so much. And it's a pain in the ass to have to keep working so damn hard for those little moments, but it's worth it, because every time, it's like you've given me a gift. Because it is. It's a gift to know that, even when no one else is trying to make you smile as much as I'm trying right now, and every moment, it happens. You smile. You've always been worth it. And fuck if I know how you do it, I know I'm pathetic. I do. But I don't care anymore. I live for your smiles, even if they're half-smiles. I live for your insults and your impossible wit. I live for the breaks in your armor, because I know someone has to. The worst thing I can think of is for you to live your life without having someone to tear your walls down. I can't live with that thought. There is no way._

_So, okay. I know you don't kiss me. I know this isn't something that I can, or want to, hope to develop into something more. I know we're not, in any way, _together_, in any sense. But that doesn't mean I can't want you to be happy. God, if only you knew. At the end of day, every day, I die a hero knowing that I made you smile. Or smirk. Either one, I'll take what I can get._

_I don't need your kiss, Beca. I just need you. I need to know... even if in the slightest, you hold back, when I try. I need to know that it's working, that when I try, it's a step towards making you okay. Because I just want you to be okay. I _need_ you to be okay. To see your eyes like this, that's all I can ever hope for._

"Okay," he says again, swallowing the sudden weight in his chest with the implications of everything that had just gone unsaid.

.:.

* * *

Those little memories are what makes waking up painful for him, back at home, spending spring break in the aftermath of the biggest mistake of his life. He had forcibly placed himself where she had never wanted him to be: _there for her_. And, really, he should have known better. His poor aca-heart can only take so much.

And to think, it had only taken her two sentences.

_Eventually_, he tells himself. _Give it time_. With a little practice, he'll be able to salvage what's left of himself after the desolation she had left in her wake. How she had made it clear, on more than one occasion, that she does not want him, in any form or way, is enough. What they had was an illusion that his lovesick heart had deceived itself into believing. He is done with being the hopeless romantic, and he is done with feeling sorry for falling for her and breaking his everything. He is done with the idea that this cliché could work.

He's done.

* * *

**AN: **

Music: The Script - Science and Faith; Adele - To Make You Feel My Love (as covered by Kris Allen)

Movies: National Treasure (2004), Jaws (1975), Say Anything (1989)

_Coming soon: Beca and Benji..._


	30. 30: Love Virtually

**AN:** Changing up the format this time... :)

* * *

Sunny-side up.

Beca is dreaming of eggs and breakfast well into almost noon, because thinking of pancakes is more appealing than thinking of her inability to maintain healthy relationships that don't go dysfunctional from her perpetually angst-ridden self.

"Mhmfff..."

She muffles a sleepy murmur into her pillow, lying on her stomach and nursing her delicately shitty disposition as the smell of maple syrup fades into her wakefulness. Her groggy mind is now bringing her back to her despicable reality, as she wonders how it might be like to have breakfast with a friend or two who doesn't hate her... Not that she's ever one to care about whether or not the world would like to tie her to a stake and set her on fire, but she is slowly starting to learn that not having anyone around is going to (as much as she _detests_ herself for admitting it) suck. Bigtime.

And the worst part about it all is that all these thoughts are a waterslide into a veritable _ocean_ of _even more_ negative, because it's a fucking monstrosity how she finds it just so annoying that she can't be fine, all by herself. She is not fine. She is not even _remotely_ fine. She is several fucking lightyears away from the tiniest fringes of _fine_.

What's that thing that unibrow woman once said?

_I tried to drown my sorrows, but the bastards learned to swim, and now I am overwhelmed by this decent and good feeling._ Yes, that's the one. That sums up her predicament, except that it doesn't, because there is nothing "decent and good" with the throbbing of a hangover at eleven in the morning, the warmth spreading over her calves at the smell of pizza...

_Well, that's not right._

That is completely un-normal, she realizes, as she jerks her head up to whip it around. (And the sharp pain in her head swishing and just _ugh_.)

"Mornin'."

Beca did not know what she was expecting to see, really. She had no expectations for this sad, spring break morning. She certainly wasn't expecting (there is _no dimension_ in _any universe_ wherein she could _possibly_ be expecting) Fat Amy, sitting on her bed, munching away at a slice of thin-crust New Yorker, and an extra large pizza box balanced on Beca's calves.

"What are you doing here?" For all that is wrong with the world right now, Beca manages to come up with that one sensible question.

"Awr, you know," Amy starts, mouth half-full, or half-empty, depending on how you wanna look at it, "giving you your hangover food. Somebody's got to." She lifts the box off Beca's warmed calves to take a slice and presents it to her, while Beca props herself up on the bed. This is... unexpected.

"Thanks," she says, with all the honest-to-god sincerity that she is truly feeling right now (partially submerged under a whole lot of nasty that her hangover is giving her).

"Yeah. I figured, you know, public safety. You need your hangover food. Especially, since last night..." Amy trails off, biting a munch with an expression that tries to gauge Beca's memory.

She has none.

Beca's eyes are so huge and full of already possible regrets and _OH MY GOD, WHAT DID I DO?!_

"Calm your nickers, you didn't text him. I confiscated your phone."

Yes, Beca was thinking of the worse case scenario, and of course, it would involve drunk texting Jesse. _Oh, god, no_. The utter and complete horror at the thought that that might've happened last night is worse than even... she can't think of anything right now that would top that. And though she doesn't say it, she could kiss Fat Amy for having the presence of mind to _not_ let her communicate last night's downward spiral into uncool.

"Um.. I, uh... Thanks."

"No prob."

They both eat pizza. Until Fat Amy finally breaks the illusion that Beca could have a nice day today.

"Though," Amy blurts, "I was kinda hoping you could explain some of your conversations," she says, procuring the phone from between her boobs while Beca's face drains of blood.

"You read my messages?"

"Eh, just a, _teency_ bit," Amy gestures, squishing an olive between her thumb and index as demonstration before plopping it in her mouth. "Also, is 'movication' a text code, or something? Because there is some seriously kinky aca-shit going on between the two of you..."

.:.

* * *

[unknown]: Hey weirdo. Where dyou keep the albums that start with numbers? ps. pls dont kill me

Beca: who's this?

[unknown]: Ah, of course. This is your adorable would-be bff and/or lover Jesse.

Beca: how the fuck did you get my number

[unknown]: There were only 2 people who signed up for the internship. Forgive me for making sure i knew the number of the person id be working with. :)

Beca: it's behind the c's

[unknown]: Thanks! Knew you'd warm up to me. ;)

Beca: txtng back is not warming up

[unknown]: Really didnt need to reply to that, but u did. ;)

[unknown]: ok joking oh god pls dont be mad

Beca: im not

[unknown]: See! This is progress.

...

Beca: why are there marshmallows

Jesse: Is that a trick question..

Beca: there are marshmllows in my box. I wasnt here yest, where does luke want these?

Jesse: Y dont u ask him?

Beca: he's not here. where do I put these?

Jesse: A lot of dishes. They normally go between smores, but i hear they make an excellent sweet potato addition.

Beca: right. putting them in your box.

Jesse: I will interpret that as a romantic gesture. Thank u. Im flattered. ;)

Beca: ur box is by the heater. good luck.

Jesse: Pls dont.

Jesse: Beca, please dont.

Jesse: Fine, theyre actually mine. But pls dont put them by the heater.

Jesse: ...

Jesse: Id really rather not have to clean up melted marshmallows Beca...

...

Jesse: Glad to know u care enough for me

Beca: wrong send.

Jesse: Nope, not a wrong send. U didnt put the marshmallows in my box. Thats the *sweetest* thing you've ever done for me. :)

Beca: brought them home. i ate them.

Jesse: Now, that's just rude.

Beca: either that or throw them away.

Jesse: No, i mean u ate them without me?! Im hurt.

Beca: your always hurt. that doesn't exactly mean anything anymore.

Beck: Jesse?

Beca: Dude...

Beca: omg, chill. I'll buy another one and we can share jesus no need for drama.

Beca: Dude your seriously offended? Really?

Jesse: Sorry. Phone died. Benj borrowed my charger. Whats that about a marshmallow date? Fyi, i like the smaller marshmallows, pls. Reminds me of how small u r.

Beca: haha very funny

Jesse: Pick u up from Baker Hall at 8?

Beca: why am I not surprised that you know where I stay

Jesse: Sorry, didnt mean to creep you out. :) your dorm number was also in the internship sign-up form.

Beca: you stalking me?

Jesse: Still am. Look out ur window.

Beca: very funny, creep. your at the station.

Jesse: *you're*

Jesse: For *you are*

Jesse: just a suggestion.

Jesse: Beca...

Jesse: I take it back. Im sorry, your right, its *your*.

Jesse: Beca? Your right and im so wrong...

Beca: Yes, you are. :))

...

Beca: sorry, I do not know the meaning of those highly complicated sexual terms, and Im partially hoping to never know. I really dont think I'll be of any use to you right now. Or ever. :(

Jesse: ...

Beca: OMG.

Beca: omg Jesse so sorry that was a completely wrong send.

Jesse: And here i thought u were accusing me of only wanting u for your body.

Beca: that was for Stacie omg forget this ever happened.

Jesse: Yea... i highly doubt that.

Jesse: Also just realized, 'S' seems to be rather far from 'J'...

Beca: you're Swanson in my contacts.

Jesse: I thought we were semi-friends enough to be on a first name basis.. :(

Beca: don't tell me. you're hurt.

Jesse: Very much so.

Jesse: Tho, i just want u to know that im *not* just using u for ur body. Like, at all. Just need to get that out there. Also, what terms we talking about here? Maybe i can help. :)

Beca: hahahaha!

Jesse: Are you laughing at me?

Beca: is that not a joke?

Jesse: You don't think I can help with highly complicated sexual terms?

Beca: I never said that.

Jesse: U were thinking it. :(

Jesse: Bec?

Beca: sorry still laughing omg wait, nope, not sorry. not even a little bit. :))

Jesse: :|

...

Jesse: Do you like apples?

Beca: depends.

Jesse: In general.

Beca: no. why?

Jesse: What's your favorite fruit? Or color? Or flavor?

Beca: why are you asking me this?

Jesse: No reason. :)

...

Beca: for the record, next time, I would like a strawbery kiwi. :)

Jesse: :)

...

Jesse: Yo dawg, where the homies at?

Beca: god that better be a wrong send.

Jesse: Naw man, im diggin yo creds! Dat was tight!

Beca: wow.

Jesse: Blackstreet? Dat shits legit, dawg. Yo streets is da bon diggity!

Beca: I dont even- what?! the hell is that even supposed to mean?!

Jesse: U rocked the other night. :)

Beca: thank you for the decent english, but we still didnt win, so that hardly matters.

Jesse: Matters to me. :)

Beca: at least it mattered to one of us.

Jesse: Ur sad.

Beca: what am I supposed to do with that statement...

Jesse: U at your dorm?

Beca: making mixes. why?

Jesse: for how long?

Beca: until I can. what's going on?

Beca: Jesse?

.:.

* * *

"You done?" Beca exasperatedly huffs from her side of the bed. The last text was sent before the Breakfast Club incident, and she still shudders at the thought. If she didn't have a raging hangover right now, she would have swiped her phone back from Amy already.

"Nawr. This, this is where it gets really freaky..."

"Amy, NO."

But Amy simply scrolls down further...

.:.

* * *

Jesse: Ur the slumdog to my millionaire

Jesse: The Schindler to my list

Jesse: The E to my T

Beca: should I be grossed out by those statements..

Jesse: My point exactly! U dont know what those mean.

Jesse: Not giving up on your movication, u know.

Jesse: Bec?

Beca: why dont you just ask me out on a date and get it over with...

.:.

* * *

Beca shakes her head adamantly at that last text, while Amy simply looks at her with the same eyes that had once leveled a sweet revenge of _you-know-what-I-mean_.

"It's not what you think..."

"This is overwhelming evidence. I would advice you to plead guilty, since there is now way you can sarcasm your way around this one."

"I didn't text that!"

"Then we have seriously underestimated how _your phone_ is in love with Jesse... Also, what's a movication? No, wait, slash that. Just show me with your hands how you do it..."

"Ew, god, no! That's- it's his way of educating me with movies."

Insert incredibly awkward pause, as Amy tries to make light of that last statement.

"So you watch porn together?"

"NO!"

.:.

* * *

Beca: luke is so pissed off with the back door haha

Jesse: Really? Whats he doing?

Beca: he's looking for duct tape for the broken part. he cant find any and you're not around to go fetch. :))

Jesse: Haha the duct tape is in my box. Dont tell him. :))

Beca: lol. when u coming in?

Jesse: Y? U miss me already? ;)

Beca: ah, but you forget. I only want you for your juice pouches.

Jesse: As much as i would like to pretend it doesnt, that hurt. :(

Beca: as opposed to ignoring you and that hideous comment?

Jesse: Touché. Btw, wanna grab lunch after?

Beca: after what?

Jesse: After i wait for u until u can grab lunch with me.

Beca: umm, ok

Beca: wait

Beca: did you mean like a date?

Jesse: Well, i promise not to bring Benji if u promise not to bring Kimmy Jin.

Jesse: ?

Jesse: Beca...

Beca: Um Jesse, the other day, the last txt I sent you wasnt actually me. Stacie took my phone during practice. :( bitch thought it'd be fun to send random shit.

Beca: ok, that... didnt come out right.

Beca: Jesse, im sorry. I just thought I should let you know that I didnt txt that.

Beca: dude?

Jesse: Wow. ok.

Beca: what?

Jesse: An actual, written apology, from Beca Mitchell? On my phone? Dont think i wont tweet this...

Beca: haha very funny dork

Jesse: Yes i am. Dont pretend i dont make u laugh. :)

Beca: oh, Im laughing. with a capital UGH.

Jesse: So I guess I'll just see u after lunch.

Beca: you're mad.

Beca: I can tell coz there arent as many smileys gracing your txts.

Jesse: im not mad. really. :)

Beca: that is a fake smiley. dont think i cant tell the difference..

Jesse: Thats a double negative.

Beca: just because it isnt a date doesnt mean Im not hungry.

Jesse: Still a double negative. :)) So, lunch?

Beca: yup. also, KIWI STRAWBERRY. get it right next time.

Jesse: AND SHE CAN SPELL!

.:.

* * *

"Wow. You're grammar sucks. It's really bad."

Beca hurls a pillow at Amy, who skillfully punches it out of the way without so much as having to look up from Beca's phone.

"Will you please give it back? Please, Amy?" Beca is practically begging now. Somehow, she knows that tackling Amy for her phone will not work with any luck whatsoever, and she will not risk the possibility of her phone getting tossed out the window three floors down ala Amy vs. The Tonehangers.

"Shh," Amy shushes, putting up a hand, as the latest text has gotten her attention. She reads to herself...

Beca knows which text she's referring to as Amy's expression changes. She can feel her own brows furrow of their own accord, realizing how much this actually pains her.

_March 17; 1:09 AM_

_From: Jesse Swanson_

_Beca, I know I screwed up. I'm sorry. I just didn't know who else to call. And I know I'm not your boyfriend, I do. I never meant to seem like one. I didn't realize. I'm sorry._

Amy looks at her, as though she can't believe that's the last one.

"Where's the rest?"

"There isn't any."

And Amy looks up at her with such a horrified expression like Beca had just told her she was going to be a runway model for Calvin Klein.

"You mean, you didn't reply?"

No. Beca hadn't replied. She didn't want to, at the time, didn't feel the need to. She couldn't. She didn't. And now, after all has been said and done, after everything that has happened, she wouldn't hesitate to trade her iMac, Macbook, and midi keyboard, just for the chance to be able to. (_Did she just trade her music for a chance to reply to Jesse's text? Oh my god, she did._)

But she can't even bring herself to say that in front of Amy, just looks at her, hoping and trusting that her friend would know her well enough to understand what her look implies.

Amy does. She understands. She sees Beca looking so lost and confused and _sad, _there is no other word for it. Beca is Sad, with a capital S. She is the epitome of the simplest of existential burdens, and Amy wants nothing more than to give her friend a hug. So she gives this look, as though to say _I understand you_, and just nods.

No words are exchanged between them except that which goes unuttered.

"Well, I gotta bounce, got a Rabbi appointment at three," Amy finally says, getting up. "You gonna be okay?"

It's a rhetorical question that they both know the answer to. So Beca swallows and smiles.

Beca is upset to see her friend leave, and it never would have occurred to her how clingy she actually feels at the moment. With the the final sound of the door closing after Fat Amy, Beca suddenly feels this overwhelming urge to seek out a friend, an acquaintance, a person, anyone really, with a warm body. That had been her first conversation in a while (except for her conversation with the bartender last night which was a blurry haze), and now, she's back to her previously established status of lonesome.

She picks up her phone almost without thinking anymore because she doesn't want to think, doesn't want to analyze what she is about to do, because fuck it. Fuck everything, she needs to do this.

_Compose message:_

_Jesse, I'm sorry._

And... _sent._

It comes to no surprise that the following twenty seconds is the longest twenty seconds of Beca's young life.

She misses him. She misses her juice pouches and the sound of his voice; she misses his horrible bed hair and how he can't be bothered to fix it even when facing the public; she misses his refreshingly dry tone when he's matching her wit for wit, or his overly enthusiastic tone when he's talking about things that she has no interest in; she misses him pushing her too far, and not backing down when she pushes back; she misses the challenge of him, the annoying, little goofball that is him; she misses the way he looks at her, like he could forever look at her for the rest of his life, and how she would often think it wouldn't be too bad to live with that adoring gaze._  
_

Her phone beeps and her heart skips a beat.

_From: Automated Response_

_This number is no longer active, and can no longer receive incoming calls or messages. Please contact your service provider._

* * *

**...**

**AN: **Yeah, so. Been wanting to write a text fic for a while now. I'm thinking of actually writing a pretty medium-length one shot text fic, with all the characters texting each other in different circumstances. Is that something ya'll would care to read?

CREDITS:

Also, this chapter was inspired by a fic from a different fandom, called "I've got your number". Shoutout to OUAT fans.

The ending of this fic, however, was shamelessly pirated from a different, fictional book. Just to put this out there, this was not my original idea. I will, however, not spoil which book this came from, as, well, _spoilers. _If you'd like to know, feel free to message me.

And yes, I know Beca sends Jesse a bunch of messages. We'll get to that. :)

Also, I cannot believe I almost forgot, but the strawberry kiwi thingo is from Ema Marsel's fic, "L is for the way I feel for you". Yay for Capri Sun!

PS: Finally, as I have never addressed this before, i would like to point out that I will not be writing a sequel for this fic, because there is already a perfect tag fic that exists for the movie, and I don't wanna ruin that fic's perfection. Yeah...

ok this has been your daily dose of extended Author's Note. I'm out.

[okay you know what I can't say goodbye without thanking each and every one of y'all for reading. you guys are best. (and even tho some of you are pretty thin...) LOL] :))


	31. 31: Be My

**AN: **Part 1 of the Valentines special...

Not one of my best chapters, but hey.

* * *

He doesn't know how it happened, but sometime between his second and ninth viewing of Moulin Rouge and his sixth viewing of Titanic, Jesse decides, with firm conviction, that Beca likes him. He knows it. He's sure. Pretty sure. Probably.

Okay, it's more like a weird feeling in his gut that is as likely to be acid reflux as anything else, but for the sake of argument, he calls it his Beca-is-into-me-but-is-too-chicken-to-admit-it gut feeling. It doesn't help that, one evening, while having dinner with his family during spring break, he gets one of those notoriously unwelcome flashbacks that reminds him of her tendency to seesaw between signals...

.:.

* * *

"Ew. Gross."

"Oh, come on."

"Not a fan."

"You're joking. Please be joking. This is one of your, like, sarcastic jokes that no one finds funny. Say it isn't so."

"Sorry. I don't do Valentines."

Jesse freezes in his tracks as Beca keeps on walking one sunny February day. They're out in the quad, and they have approximately fifty more steps to go before an inevitable fork where they part for their classes. Jesse has fifty steps to go to convince Beca to like this holiday, even a teency bit...

He's got to convince her to be his Valentine.

...

_"Alright, who's in?" Bumper is now collecting the cash._

_"I'm up for it."_

_"Game on."_

_"Aw, come on, guys. Everyone knows it's impossible."_

_"Do you, sir Donald, doubt the sexual prowess of our Mr. Swanson? What say you to that, good sir?"_

_The Treble men discuss their annual Valentines bets a week before the holiday, as it is a horrendously amusing tradition of theirs to place bets during this season of love. The nature of the bet varies from year to year, but it has become a sacred tradition to make sure that the Bellas are involved, somehow. Last year, Bumper had been the bet-man, and he had been tasked to woo Chloe enough to get a kiss on Valentine's day. Impossible? Bumper had set Chloe up with Tom then, garnering him a kiss on the cheek from the ginger goddess. Of course, this was a half-win, and Bumper insists that his semi-success was valid. Nobody said anything about where the kiss was to be placed._

_But this year, things get a little more... interesting. Jesse (of all people) had been chosen by the aca-gods (by way of a game of beer pong) to be the bet-man. And as such, the Trebles get a spike of creative enthusiasm about how the bets should go, especially since they all know who "Jesse's Girl" is._

_The suggestions had ranged between boning Beca (Jesse's face had warned the Trebles that he is not above punching any one of them at the suggestion), to making her admit that she likes him (at which point, all of them agreed that that was the limit of possible). They finally agreed on betting on whether or not Jesse would be able to make Beca "his Valentine", leaving Jesse with a whole lot of creative liberty to work with. Doesn't matter how he does it, but he needs to give them some kind of undeniable proof._

_"Can I pass on this?" Jesse isn't sure he can pull this off, even for the team._

_"Come on, Swanson," Unicycle laughs._

_The Trebles chuckle, because Jesse is quite obviously, hopelessly, stupidly into Beca. And this is just one excuse for him to explore the wild, uncharted terrain that is their relationship. Like hell, he wants to pass on this._

_He doesn't, however, appreciate how the Trebles have gotten Beca into this bet. She is not a game. But he buries his objections for the team. He'll just have to wing it._

_"Okay, so that's... seven against, two for, including our bet-man," Bumper counts, flipping the wads of cash as the Treble men finish placing their bets. Looks like the majority of them had bet with the odds, and while it's Jesse's job to prove them wrong, he doesn't exactly know how he's gonna get Beca to be his Valentine, much like he doesn't know how it would be possible to land a rover on the sun._

_Which is why, the next day, he seeks the advice of his one and only trusty comrade, the Pancho to his Don Quixote._

_..._

_"Hey, Benji..."_

_"Yeah?"_

_"How do I get Beca to be my valentine?"_

_"It's you, isn't it? The Trebles chose you to be their bet-man for Valentines!"_

_"Um, yeah, how did you-never mind." Benji is a walking encyclopedia of Treble knowledge, so of course he would know. He joins Jesse, and they both sit on the edge of the bed, willing a solution out of their geeky minds._

_"Um, maybe something Star Wars related? I have a Hans Solo costume you could borrow."_

_"That... would work. Except that she doesn't watch those."_

_Benji looks like someone had just presented him with a duck's egg, and he has no idea what to make of that information._

_"Do you mean that she doesn't watch it on a regular basis, or that she hasn't..." Benji chokes on the last words because of the thought of someone who hasn't seen Star Wars, the greatest story that has ever been told in life, in existence..._

_Lord have mercy._

_"Yeah." Jesse's vague reply is so that Benji wouldn't get a cardiac arrest._

_"Um..." There goes half of Benji's suggestions._

_And, stumped. If Benji can't help him with his Beca problems, he doesn't know where else to turn... Except, maybe, one of the Bellas._

_..._

_"Hi, Chloe."_

_Jesse skips beside her after a Bella's rehearsal the next day. It's great that Chloe is usually the last one out, so he takes this chance to gain insight on the inner workings of the female mind, and other world mysteries._

_"Hi, Jesse! Beca already left half an hour ago, so-"_

_"Actually, I kinda wanted to talk to you."_

_"Oh? Okay." They stop, because this seems serious._

_Jesse explains to Chloe that (masochist as he sounds) he has been "tasked" by the Trebles to get Beca to be his Valentine (and he will do it in the most honorable, genuine way, he swears), and, as he describes it:_

_"I need your professional opinion, as a female of our specie, to know how far up the realm of impossible this actually is. Like, on a scale of one to ten."_

_"Hmm... What's a ten?"_

_"That would be Beca getting married and having aca-babies with Bumper."_

_Jesse immediately realizes how totally, completely beyond dysfunctional that is, and Chloe's reaction is to be disturbed beyond repair._

_"Um. Okay. Uh, I think that's more of a twelve," she replies, her face scrunched up in an effort to squeeze out the image. Nope._

_"God, I am so sorry, that _is_ a twelve. Ten is, like... ugh, I can't believe I said that." Jesse wants to soap his mouth._

_"Yeah. So what's a ten?"_

_"Beca having babies. Yeah, let's leave it at that."_

_"Ooh. That's a tough one." Chloe bites her lip in intense concentration, as she looks up at Jesse's eager eyes._

_Chloe, while bound by oath to never bed a Treble, is not bound by oath to never feel giggly and cutesy at the idea of a Bella-Treble couple. She looks at Jesse, the picture of a depressed beagle, and she knows that she's got to offer up at least a few suggestions for the lovestruck young lad..._

.:.

* * *

Jesse draws out a sigh as he catches step with Beca. He's got forty-eight steps to go on this day, the thirteenth.

"Not even chocolates?" he offers.

"They're fine, but I can get them any day. I don't need a date or a pathetic excuse of a holiday to eat chocolate. Plus, they're expensive this season."

"They _are_ a total rip-off."

"Right."

He stops to place a pause between them so as to give enough gravity to his next words.

"So I guess that means I can't interest you in some Valentine chocolate?"

"What are you getting at?" she stops, looking at him with her signature side-smirk-smile and all at once being curious and mocking and laughing at him, with his hands in his pocket and his heart in his throat. She has him tongue-tied and she doesn't even know it.

"What I'm saying... (he resumes walking just to distract himself from thoughts of her smile) is that I really think you should give tomorrow a chance."

"Is there a reason why you would say that?"

This is it. He's going to do it. But he can't. Because this fear washes over him like a bucket of glacial water and he wonders for a moment if he could take it if she says no.

"Yikes, okay," Beca interprets his stunned silence as a moment of internal geeking, "I think you're overheating, and I've gotta get to class, so I will leave you to your nerd spasms," she finishes, walking away with a wink and two finger-guns shooting a hole right through his poor little heart.

_Shit, shit, shit. She's walking away. Do something._

Jesse's brain goes full-on overdrive. "Beca!" he calls out. She turns around, eyebrows quirked and expectant.

_Say something._

"Chocolate and flowers?" he blurts out. Literally, the stupidest this to ever come out of his mouth next to an accidental saliva spit-take... wait, nope. Literally the stupidest thing, ever.

"Cool. Um, I don't think I can get you some tomorrow, but yeah. Maybe next time?" she says, brows furrowed at his incoherence as she exits from his horrible word vomit.

Jesse is, to say the least, in an utter state or mortification.

_God, Swanson. Ugh._

He lifts his head heavenward, cursing the universe under his breath. _Chocolates and flowers_? What the _fuck_? What (in the name of all things Skywalker) was he thinking? But that's the thing, isn't it: he wasn't thinking. He was operating on idiot mode, and he shuffles awkwardly away, cringing at _chocolate and flowers_ and the bumbling idiot he had made of himself.

_Stupid, stupid Valentines. _

He goes on to his class, hoping that Chloe's plan would turn out better.

...

There are things in this world that Beca would never admit to liking. She's been so used to hating everything, that she sometimes forgets how it feels to actually _like_ something. She hates Valentines, that's for sure, but what she doesn't hate is the way Jesse, her _friend _(let's take a moment to stress that out), had hinted on making this detestable time of the year a little more tolerable for her.

He's a sweet guy, she'll give him that. He always has been. But he hadn't exactly been clear earlier. It's come to a point that they both know that they are friends. Close friends, maybe even _best_ (queerballs, but true). So really, she hates Valentines. Absolutely. Completely hates it. Like, so much. Probably. She's pretty sure. She thinks.

But damn, he had looked really funny when he had totally blanked out earlier. (And she had hoped, for the briefest of moments, underneath several layers of denial, that he was going to say what she thought he would.)

So, when the early Valentine roses come pouring into the classroom, Beca only half-rolls her eyes. (It would be nice to get one, after all. To have someone care enough to send her a lame rose, or even a twig...)

"And... is there a 'Beca' around here?" the delivery guy asks. Beca jerks her head up. "Any 'Beca' here?"

"Um, that's me..." she says, wondering if maybe someone had gotten her a twig.

"Yeah, uh, this is for you," the delivery guy says as he hands her, of all things, a juice pouch.

Beca smirks, because that is her standard reaction to any and all things Jesse Swanson. Of course he would forgo the roses for juice pouches. She can just hear his voice in her head as he mockingly says _Roses are soooo mainstream._

There is a sticky note to it: _Beca, consider this your Valentine rose, in liquid form. And because I know you hate the season of love, I made sure that the flavor is blue in color. It matches the hard steel of your eyes._

There are things in this world that Beca would never admit to hating. Beca hates it when she _so_ doesn't want to do things, and they happen anyway. Like, shower encounters or impromptu auditions. The way Murphy's law always dictates that whatever _can_ go wrong, _will_ go wrong, and right now, the smile crawling up to her mouth is so, _so_ wrong. Especially because butterflies have no business in her tummy during this season of the year. They should be invading the stomachs of people like Chloe, or Ashley and Jessica, or even Aubrey. Her stomach, she'd like to think, is not in butterfly season during February. She is a butterfly-proof, independent woman, _goddamnit._

But here they are, making her feel... _happy_. Just as she is to punch the straw in, she notices that there is a tiny, ant-like scribble at the bottom of the back of the note:

_ps. will you be my not-valentine?_

It should come as no surprise, then, that she full-on smiles at that. _What a dork._ She rolls her eyes, wishing he were around to see her do so.

* * *

**AN: **If I had a word to describe this chapter, it would be: _Yikes._

CREDITS:

The term "ginger goddess" has been taken from my favorite AU, "Music from the Motion Picture". I included it here so I can shamelessly plug it. I have no regrets whatsoever. "Jesse's girl" is a direct result of a comment. Shoutout to Rein Hitomi. :)

If I could shoutout to every single one of ya'll, I would. And I sense a bit of a writer's block coming up, so I'm apologising ahead of time.

_Up next: Part 2 of Valentines, Beca in a red hoodie and Fat Amy with wings..._

_Coming soon: The Breakfast Club... again..._


	32. 32: Valentine

**AN: **Took a while, but here ya'll go. Part 2. :)

* * *

_Chapter 32: Valentine_

"No."

"Beca..."

"That outfit should be illegal. Like, in all fifty states."

It's February the thirteenth, after the Bellas rehearsals. Beca should have seen this coming. The last three holidays, she had been able to weasel her way out of the costumes, but this holiday, this... _season of love_, as disgusting as it is, is what she gets for having been the most successful weaseler last year. Tomorrow, she will pay the price.

"The color of this season is red, and we need you to dress accordingly." Aubrey has her nice-tone on, which is never good. So Beca takes the short dress (dear _god_, it matches with Amy's), the wings, and the bow and arrow, albeit a little grudgingly, for tomorrow's Valentine rounds. _The color of this season is red, because there will be blood if this outfit touches my skin._

"Wow. This is it. It's been nice knowing you all, ladies," Beca says, eyeing her demise that comes in such a hideous shade: _baby pink_ (of all the hideous pastels). Pink is not red. Whoever taught Aubrey her colors didn't do a swell-enough job.

However, in a post-midnight moment of ingenuity, Beca is able to come up with a way to cover up her public V-Day horror. The next morning, she meets up with Amy at the quad to do their holiday rounds, wearing a red hoodie over her otherwise rep-ruining dress, tucking it all in underneath. Her anti-conformist self demands to wear pants, because she refuses to ruin her image as a badass over some totally made-up, unworthy holiday. (Like, seriously. There's a reason why the Queen of Hearts was a terrible person.)

...

After the first building round, Beca has completely lost all interest in the humiliation that is her life. Her impassive face is no one's problem. But Jesse, true to form, walks over to her with a brimming smile and a ready quip.

"Wow. Cupid has never looked so... contemporary."

Beca turns around to see him in a _totally lame_ printed T-shirt: _I'll buy you Rogaine when you start losing all your hair._ The fact that he has that on his shirt... Jesse's humor is horrible.

"Are you insulting my cupid?"

"No, I think you look beautiful in red. _Hot,_ even. Really brings out your _passion_ for today." Jesse's humor is... _horrible_.

"Is that—did you just make a joke about the color red? Is that what that was?"

He skips beside her, hand on the strap of his bag, the other swinging by the length of her arm. It is one of his life goals to someday be able to take her fingers in his, but for now, this pendulum-swinging proximity will have to do.

"Can I take a picture of you? I'm tagging it as 'The day Beca doesn't wear black'."

"Okay, first off, no. Second, I'm _wearing_ black."

"No you're not." Jesse doesn't even have to look twice, because he notices everything about her.

"Sure about that, buddy?"

And she winks at him with all the innocence of the devil himself, laying waste to all that has been and all that will ever be in Jesse Swanson's life. He is _such a goner._

It isn't totally strange, Beca has to admit. She had expected something worse, something along the lines of _feelings_ from Jesse, Teddy Bears and heaps of expensive chocolate. She is not looking forward to that. But somehow, he's playing it totally cool (even in light of her totally aca-inappropriate teasing).

"So, have you given it any thought?" Jesse asks, walking her to the next building, suddenly pretending to get super interested in the fake feathers of her wings.

"Given what thought?"

Jesse is, if he were being truly honest to himself, a bit hurt that she doesn't know what he's talking about...

"Oh, by the way," Beca adds, "guess what? Got a juice pouch yesterday. I think it's from Luke. He wants me to be his Valentine."

"Wha—heeeeey."

Yup. This woman is the death of him.

It is to Beca's credit that she maintains a very nice cool after what she just said. She does so enjoy seeing him get riled up with her Luke comments. At the same time, she's able to tell him that she appreciates the gesture without having to actually _say_ anything.

"Luke is so sweet. We're planning a June wedding."

As for Jesse, well, what's a guy to say to that? Especially to a girl like Beca? He's lucky she even acknowledges his attempt. (Not to mention the totally confusing hidden meaning behind her words given that _he_ had given her the juice pouch, not Luke... _Don't overthink it, man. Don't go there._)

"Ha... So, are you?" He asks.

"Am I what?"

"My—I mean, Luke's... _Luke's_ Valentine." He feels the rush of red creep up to his neck as he boyishly smiles, embarrassed by that almost slip-up.

"Mhmm."

She is _totally_ enjoying this.

"I don't know. Luke is yet to offer me something... solid. Like a key to his place. Or a car. Preferably Mercedes."

"You sure about the car? Shouldn't you be, like, at least a certain height to be able to reach the pedals?"

"Oh, haha." _Horrible_ sense of humor.

"But if you want, I know a guy who's got a great deal on Mini Coopers."

Beca and Jesse try, they do. Today is reserved for couples, legitimate people who are in love, in like, or in really deep sexual tension. They do not fall in any of the above-mentioned categories. (At least, neither of them will admit that they fall under all three.) Theirs is a platonic bond, a camaraderie, a _friendship_...

"Oi, you two lover birds made out yet?"

Beca and Jesse are jolted out of their bubble of comfort and brought into Fat Amy's bubble of discomfort, also known as Fat Amy's Totally Inappropriate Way to Get These Two Lovedrunk Butts Together.

"What?! Dude—"

"So, is that a 'no', or a 'probably later'? I need to know, I've got a lot riding on the two of you. And when you do, would it be too much to ask you to French it? I've got a side-bet going with Stacie."

"Amy!"

"Also, question: Have you ever blown his pitch pipe?"

To be fair, Amy's behavior is probably caused by the natural chemical imbalance happening in her, right now. Then again, everything that's been happening today is, actually, due to _that_ time of the month.

...

_"I swear to god, I need, like, five Advils."_

_The Bellas meet up for their annual Valentines wager on the thirteenth, before rehearsals. Nobody's really sure when it had started, but the Bellas had known for a while now that the Trebles had been commencing bets about them during February, the sexist pigs (Aubrey's words). As such, it has become Bella tradition to bet on how much money they would be able to get a random Treble to lose during this expensive season. Bumper had been the target last year, and since he had seemed to try to get to Chloe ("Don't you DARE bring it up, Aubrey. Don't you DARE."), the Bellas had come up with an elaborate scheme to get Bumper to spend near two thousand dollars on the perfect night with Chloe's crush, Tom. Needless to say, it worked._

_This year, however, lines are blurred, and there will be blood._

_Quite literally, too, as the Bellas had been spending so much time together due to their excessive practices. Let's just say, the stars are all aligned this week. There will most definitely be blood._

_Which is why the topic of Treble pigheadedness is exhausted, and the game of wagers is so on. The Bellas need an outlet for their raging hormones, after all._

_"I just wanna stab someone," Stacie says. "It's either that or period-sex, and I don't wanna ruin my sheets."_

_"Stacie, focus!" Aubrey's eyes are wild. "We are here to discuss our tradition."_

_"Is anybody hungry? Cause I'm starving. I gotta replenish my iron." Fat Amy's suggestion is surprisingly valid._

_Instead of the usual, annual game of wit-matching with the witless wads also knows as the Trebles ("Their grades are below average," Aubrey had once said to boost the girls' egos. It didn't work.), the Bellas are an Amazonian army, and they are in it to kill it. They are all delicately hormotional, and everything is bloody murder ("Bumper Allen must die," Amy had burst out at random). They are enraged by mother fucking nature, and the bets are on: how much will Beca be able to get Jesse to spend on her?_

_"Dude, no."_

_Beca's arms are crossed in front of her, which means she is stubborn today. Aubrey's hands are on her hips, which means that she is stubborn today. Shit is going down. Lilly brought popcorn (because Lilly is a strange human being, and possibly psychic)._

_"Beca," Aubrey starts, her manhands (Amy's words) making this gesture that annoys the hell out of Beca, "this is tradition. I trust that you know what that word means, and that you won't be letting the group down out of some unfounded spite against this wonderful season." She spits out the word "wonderful" like it's a curse upon humanity._

_"Oh, I don't care about the season. I'm not gonna bait my friend to get him to spend on me."_

_Beca doesn't want to overthink her stand on this. She really doesn't want to do this. Jesse doesn't deserve to be treated that way, and most especially not by her. (That would be too much like compounding assault on injury, but that's overthinking it...)_

_Aubrey takes a deep, exasperated inhale. She has a daily allowable Beca-tolerance threshold, and it is quickly filling up. ("Please pass the popcorn," Ashley says, without peeling her eyes away for a second.)_

_"What makes you think he would hesitate to do the same?"_

_Whoa. Major question alert. Aubrey had just thrown a classic 'eye for an eye' at her, and she is careful to try to understand how she feels about Aubrey's words..._

_"Then fine," Beca replies, "what he does is his business."_

_"Won't you be upset?" Aubrey is seriously shocked by Beca's reaction. They all are. But the most shocked of them all is Beca, because she should be upset. Not being upset at that is like, being okay with Taylor Swift._

_"Why would I be upset?" There are too many things wrong with that question, but Beca ignores them all._

_Would she be upset if their roles were reversed and Jesse takes on the task? She should be. Who, in their right, feminist mind would be okay with that? She shouldn't be okay with that, because she isn't even okay with half the stuff normal people are okay with, like slow walkers, or stupid people. Beca should so be upset. She should be a hormotional, raging bitch at the thought._

...

But she's not. Instead, she looks like a hippie junkie on high, because all she can think of is the itch on her shoulders from the offensive pair of kindergartener wings. That, and flipping Aubrey off. She _so_ wants to flip Aubrey off. Her nails are dark red, after all. It's aca-appropriate for the season.

She un-spaces out just in time to fire an arrow on cue and salute-wink the stranger at the door as Fat Amy backs away. Focusing on the positive, it could be worse. The Blue Raspberry Kool-Aid in her bag is evidence of that.

...

"Yea... But it could be worse," Fat Amy consoles Jesse. "Friend-zone is pretty bad, but at least you're not _Sassy Gay Friend_-zoned... or did you... get there as well?"

Jesse sits beside Amy after lunch (when, he estimates, she is her most amiable). Beca had insisted that she needed to "tear someone from limb to limb", which is girl-code for _I need to drink meds or someone will get bodily harmed_, affording Jesse the opportunity to get some sage, or otherwise, advice on how to go about this matter of getting Beca Mitchell to be his Valentine, without her going all... wrath of hell on him. Especially because, as he puts it:

"It's a... bet," he murmurs under his breath, too scared to look Fat Amy in the eye.

"Yea—_what?!_"

Alright, he's got to own up to his balls. He knew he had to wing it ever since he got chosen (_stupid beer pong_) anyway, and that he'll have to own up somehow. Granted, the rom-com part of his brain probably coaxed him into believing that it would go way, _way_ different than this, but such is his life. (Being [in love] with) Beca is hard work.

"Okay, okay, this Valentine thing, I was kinda commissioned to... do it. But! But, I swear to you, even before this whole ordeal, I would probably still be asking Beca to be my Valentine... or my... not-Valentine... in any case, so it's okay, right? She won't kill me?"

Fat Amy's eyes narrow into slits, more for dramatic effect than anything. Yes, of course she believes him. The dork would've probably gotten into Beca's bad graces this day all on his own. But she's not gonna tell him that.

"Sorry. You're done for."

"Not even, like, medium-rare..."

"Nope. Well done. Charred."

"Shit."

...

"I am 300% percent _so done_," Stacie huffs, carrying two bouquets, seven single roses, five boxes of chocolates, a long... thing, eleven, individually-wrapped bon-bons, and a vanity kit with an unhealthy amount of pain killers. "God, I haven't filed in, like, three whole hours."

"Need help?" Beca offers, meeting Stacie in the hallways. She's got to hand it to the girl, "That's a pretty impressive load of consumerism you got there."

"Oh no," Stacie replies, balancing the thing between her neck and shoulders, "Two roses are Ashley's."

"Uh, huh."

"Here." Stacie kindly hands Beca the vanity kit. She was nice enough to lend Beca some meds, especially because they are all in the Moses-transforms-the-river-Nile story this week. Girls gotta look out for each other, after all. Romantic love isn't the only kind of love in the air, as evidenced by the kind soul who is now approaching Stacie to help her.

"Can I help you with tha—"

"FUCK YOU, DICKHEAD!" Stacie can get a little... mood-swingy.

Someone should come up with a monthly memo of when the collective Bella bloodbath is to occur. It would benefit the whole student body to know, ahead of time, when to steer clear of the paths of the ten violent ladies, as they each have their... "PMSelves".

Aubrey gets really emotional, and spends most of her free time on the treadmill... crying. Chloe barely leaves her room (it's important to note that her boyfriend Tom is handcuffed to her bedpost during this time). Denise and Cynthia Rose are awol. Ashley and Jessica are more inclined to host sleepovers. Fat Amy's usual innuendo become full-blown sexual harassment cases. Lilly needs to be kept away from sharp objects. Stacie needs to be kept away from long objects.

As for Beca, well.

Beca doesn't have a special PMS ritual. She doesn't even change much, actually. At least, not much on the outside. She doesn't think there's much to do about it, it's not like she feels any different. She does, however, enjoy juice pouches, maybe a little more so than usual. (and _maybe_ she does get a teency bit less icy...)

What she doesn't enjoy right now, or ever, is the presence of Bumper's too-smug-to-be-true face.

...

"Oh, w-hell-o, look what we have here," Bumper says as Beca unceremoniously passes by the Trebles at the quad, getup and all. She has to tell herself he's not worth it to keep her legs moving but...

"It's a bright red, grumpy Bella! With wings!"

_Oh, it's on._

The Trebles laugh at that, partially because it's mandatory to laugh at Bumper's jokes, but most of them have the prudence not to look sincere about it, especially when Beca stops to turn to them with an expression that could melt the flesh off their eye sockets. A hush descends on them the moment Beca quirks her eyebrow. _Do you wanna die today?_

But as usual, Bumper's idiot brain makes a display of itself.

"Whoa there, scary mama. Why the intense face? Not feeling like getting laid tonight?"

The single reason why Bumper has grown the balls to say that to Beca is because Jesse isn't around to smite him. Nevertheless, not a single one of the other Trebles condone that statement. (Donald hasn't even looked up from his texting the whole time, but he does utter a simple scoff, followed by "Aw, dude. Now you're getting it.")

"Did you know that I'm on my period right now?"

She likes how that comes across the way it should: as a death threat.

...

"Kill me! KILL ME NOW!"

It's not a panic. It's anarchy.

Amy is clutching her abdomen, searching for support (which isn't easy given her sexy fat ass), while Ashley and Jessica try to... do _something_. It's already mid-afternoon, but Amy had forgotten to take her Australian pain-killers. Apparently, dysmenorrhea is on a whole new level in the land _down under_.

"For the love of... cable television..."

Amy is huffing, gasping, for all intents and purposes, _dying_. It's incredible timing that Ashley and Jessica were able to usher her to a less-populated area of the campus, behind the old cafeteria. It's either that, or run the risk of Fat Amy snowballing across the quad, because she is, right now, preoccupied with doing that repetitive preschool fire drill: Stop, Drop, and Roll.

"Hnnggg..."

"Okay, Amy, just breathe, breeeaaatheee..." Ashley is hyperventilating.

"I _am breathing_!"

"I'm calling Stacie," Jessica says, pulling out her phone. "I think she's got—"

"Give that to me!"

...

Stacie is giving Hat, Donald, and Benji a female sex-ed survival course (It started with Benji's completely innocent comment about whether or not he could help her, to which she replied something in Italian. And what came out as an explanation for her strange behavior turned into a seminar for how to handle women on the red tide.) when her phone rings.

"So, like, you just have to make sure that the tampons are really—wait, hang on... Hello?"

_"Drugs! I need drugs!"_

"Is this for Uncle Bob again, because I told you, he doesn't deal anymore—"

_"It's Amy!... I'm behind the... old cafeteria... I need... painkillers..." _It comes out as a cross between a strangled huff and a wheeze.

"Whoa, okay. Are we talking, like, dripping faucet, or, like, shaken softdrink?"

No words can describe the expressions that cross Donald's and Benji's faces. Hat, though, looks sympathetic. He totally gets it.

...

"We're talking power hose... HURRY UP!" And Amy throws Jessica's phone with a pitch to rival state champion footballers. The phone lands beyond their eye's reach. Fat Amy also has violent tendencies.

"Gaaahhhh..."

It's bad. Amy has nothing to do but roll around, clutching her abdomen ("I'm giving birth! Help me!"), while Ashley and Jessica try to console her without getting too close. She might bite.

"Whoa, ladies, everything okay?"

As is Jesse's incredible gifting for having just _fantastic_ timing, who else would choose to appear at such a scene? Fresh from a quick trip out of campus, he sees Amy wheezing and this is a serious situation he's in.

"What happened?" he asks, kneeling beside her. She is _raging_ that he even has to ask.

"Niagara Falls in my vagina is what's happening!" Fat Amy will have none of your shit today.

Now, Jesse is a gentleman. He was brought up to respect women, open doors for them, run to the store for them, buy them flowers. He's up for that, he really is. He prides himself in being the kind of manly man that isn't afraid to go up to the store clerk and inquire about what aisle the tampons are located. He will go down in history as second only to maybe Sir Ian McKellen.

But now, he's not so sure about what he's about to ask...

"Do you... do you want me to carry you to the infirmary?"

"I need drugs..." it's a good thing Amy is kind of hazy right now.

...

Beca looks at herself in one of the more decent bathrooms in the department building across campus. She takes off the hoodie and the horrendous baby-pink dress cascades down mid-thigh. Well, she has no choice now. She'll just have to suck it up. She takes off her stained jeans (damnit, she knew she should have used tampons instead of pads) as she decides she'll just have to be super sneaky with the route back to her dorm...

*Wise men say, only fools rush in...*

Beca's phone rings the unabashedly sentimental tune so suddenly.

"Hello?... _What?_"

...

Oh, the things she does for the Bellas.

Now, here she is, running a trans-campus marathon. Apparently, Stacie had forgotten that she had given the druggy vanity kit to Beca, and had gotten there empty-handed (to Amy's multiple and sometimes incoherent obscenities). So here. Beca is running in a baby-pink Valentine dress to rescue her friends from the perils of a drug-deprived Fat Amy.

"I'm here, chill out," she says, after Amy calls her something along the lines of turtle-slow twat.

Fat Amy is immediately given the equivalent of her regular dosage of pain killers, which, by Beca's estimates, is around the potency needed to tranquilize one medium-sized wild stallion.

She ignores Jesse's glaringly obvious presence, but the fact that he hasn't yet commented on her gross outfit is even more unnerving. He must be reserving it for later, when he would have as much of her forever-divided attention as she can give him.

"Ah," Amy exhales after her final gulp of water, "I love you aca-bitches." She gets that last line out before she passes.

...

"I like your dress."

"Here we go."

Having just carried (more like dragged) Fat Amy to her dorm, Beca and Jesse are exhausted. It's been a tough day, what with the season of romance coming to a full crescendo, and with the changing dynamic of the Bella-Treble wager wars. But some things never change. Like Jesse's life goal, or Beca's attitude towards Valentines. In such a super crazy season that brings out the worst and the best, it's nice to have a few constants.

"By the way," Jesse starts, "got you this. But you can't open it till later, okay? Promise me."

He hands her a small, sealed paper bag, because he's a romantic. That's one constant that Beca has learned to expect from him.

"So secretive. Is it drugs? You know I'm on my period right now."

"I do, actually, thanks to Stacie. How does that work, by the way? Should we have, like, a safe word for when I get too annoying? Are you homocidal?"

"No need. I'm low maintenance, so you're good."

"Sweet."

They walk a while more, letting the comfortable silence settle on them, giving Jesse enough time to calm his nerves. Now's a good a time as any.

"I have to tell you something," Jesse starts. Never mind that he might not walk away from this with both his nuts; he'd rather Beca hear it from him.

"Don't tell me... is this about the Treble bet?"

His face tells her that that was the last thing he had expected. She, yet again, gives him the shock of his life, because she's unpredictable. That's one constant that Jesse has never learned to expect from her.

"Wha—how did you..."

"Lucky guess," she shrugs. "So, how does _that_ work? Do they, like, pay you in cash for that? What're you supposed to do, anyway?"

"I'm supposed to get you to be my Valentine."

"Ha." It comes out as her ultra-offensive snort, and he loves it.

"Wait, so you're not... mad?"

"Nah. So long as we split the cash."

"Wait, really? You're not mad? Or are you, just... _what?_"

"You underestimate my capacity to not care."

It's true. She doesn't care in the least bit. Because she knows who she is to him, deep down. She knows that he adores her, and they're close enough that she knows she's more than a bet to him. Oddly, she's okay with that.

"So does this mean..." Dare he hopes it.

"Yeah, whatever."

She tries to ignore it, but his stupid grin is way too big and he just stops there and she has to roll her eyes at him and pull his arm to get them along.

So it was, on February 14, that Beca Mitchell became Jesse Swanson's unofficial not-Valentine. She gets to her dorm and plops on her bed, her hideously pink Valentine dress pooling around her small body. Finally, she tears open the paper bag, and of course, what would be in it other than a tiny toy car model of a Mercedez. And a key.

She reads the sticky note: _Beca, here's your car. And a key I found in some of my old socks. I know it's not to Luke's place, but it's close enough. —Jesse Swanson (signing my name now see)_

Jesse has, and will always have, such a horrible sense of humor. She will never forgive him, though, for making her smile on this occasion (she chalks it up to her hormones). She examines the small, yellow sticky note, but there isn't anything else on it.

...

To say that Jesse feels great is the understatement of the year. He feels like a supernova, like a huge ball of light, like an ethereal soul, a petal floating on a sea of endless love (this is a gross description, he realizes, and it's so cheesy but what can he do? He really does feel elated). Tomorrow, he is about to lose five hundred dollars to the bet, but it feels more like five cents, because he couldn't care less. The highlight of his day had been Beca's affirmative "whatever".

Sure, the day is at its end, and it's not like they were actually gonna live up to the title of being each other's not-Valentines (sigh), but the fact that she did say yes, in her own way, makes him grin like an idiot as he stares lovingly at his ceiling. His phone beeps:

_February 14; 11:58 PM_

_From: Beca Mitchell_

_fine, I'll be your valentine. you win the bet._

If Jesse's grin could get any bigger, his face would break. And so it was, on February 14, that Beca Mitchell became Jesse Swanson's official Valentine, with the text to prove it. Followed by another one:

_February 14; 11:59 PM_

_From: Beca Mitchell_

_one condition: we split the cash 80/20_

.:.

* * *

Beca smiles back at the thought, the sweet sound of Ingrid Michaelson's voice wafting through the station. That had been a day worth remembering. She does remember his stupid grin and his favorite gesture of giving her stuff with sticky notes attached...

And then she looks down at the mixing board, eyes drawn to none other than her own handwriting on the sticky note that had been on the mix that she gave him:

_These are my new mixes, plus a bunch of other songs. I have a feeling you'd appreciate them better than Luke would. –B_

She recalls that her mix had been playing that day of the semi-finals, and she realizes that Jesse had done that. Not Luke. That was all Jesse. For her. And oh god, the way she had treated him that day, barely glancing up...

She is a horrible person.

Beca knows this. So her eyes glance to the tall rack of soundtracks, and fall on the one that rings a bell: The Breakfast Club.

Jesse had taken a chance on her music. It's time she took a chance on his movies.

* * *

**AN: **Always wanted to do a period fic...

In any case, this turned out way longer that it should probably be. Also, if you pause it just right, there is actually a sticky note on the mixing board in the station, during spring break. Weird, I know.

Happy Valentines, nerds. :)

MUSIC: Can't Help Falling in Love - Elvis Presley (as covered by Ingrid Michaelson); The Way I Am - Ingrid Michaelson

EDIT:

Announcement: renovation ongoing. Been reading my horrible past chapters, and I'm fixing them up. So if they suddenly seem different, that's why. And just, thank you for reading the crap I post. I never would have though that I could continue this, but thank you. For real. Your responses are super aca-preciated, like you have no idea. :)


	33. 33: Sincerely Yours

**AN:** Any additional characters and actors mentioned are from The Breakfast Club.

* * *

Watch The Breakfast Club, Jesse had said.

It'll be fun, he had said.

That son of a bitch.

She had taken the liberty of bringing home the movie from the station, after checking out the soundtrack. Jesse had told her it would have the best ending. And the soundtrack was pretty good, if she says so herself. What could go wrong, right? Wrong. So wrong.

The movie starts, and she doesn't know what she's expecting, really. But since her expectations seem to always get dashed nowadays, she feels it's safer not to expect. So, as the opening beat of the drums welcome her, she watches.

And watches.

And is still watching.

There are moments, specific moments, that she knows was probably not Jesse's fault. But she appreciates it anyway. Because there are moments in the film that just hit her right where she had denied the shit out of her current predicament.

_"You know why guys like you knock everything? It's because you're afraid."_

This.

The very air out of Beca's lungs are knocked out, then and there. As Molly Ringwald converses with Judd Nelson about his dickery, Beca's own dickery is suddenly brought to light in her consciousness.

She does this thing, with people. Wherein she cuts it off before anything else happens. Before she can be happy. And it hurts.

It hurts her heart to realize how afraid she had been, so absolutely afraid, to the point that she had been so blinded by her idiotic self to realize how it must've hurt Jesse.

She hurt Jesse.

_"You're a big coward!"_

Yes. Yes she is. And she has no one else to blame but herself.

It doesn't help that, as the movie progresses, she keeps going back to random instances that keep pointing back to her nerd...

_"Screws fall out all the time, the world is an imperfect place."_

Damn you, Judd Nelson...

.:.

* * *

_It's a few days after the pre-Halloween mixer, and there is duct tape where a glass panel used to be, on the station's back door. Luke had been whiny and borderline seething yesterday, because Jesse had not been around to fix stuff that Luke should be fixing himself. Looks like Luke had to do his job for once, and he had been really pissy about it._

_But now, stacking again, Beca finds herself smiling at Jesse's noncommittal entrance into the station, his grin lighting up the dingy place, fake cobwebs and all. They had lunch yesterday, one of their infamous picnics that had them talking about a span of topics, him explaining who Woody Allen is, and her explaining that she didn't care, (even though she really didn't mind seeing him ramble on about famous film icons with funny names) sipping her juice pouch like they were without a care in the world._

_One thing she had been thankful for was that he didn't push it. He never did. Not when she had unwittingly gotten his hopes up from leaving her phone with Stacie the other day, and not when she would rather not talk about TBC (which stands for both The Breakfast Club, and That Borderline Catastrophe)._

_And when he had that same, vulnerable look on his face that night at the station, she couldn't. She knew, in her gut, that he was going to make her say it: that they were just friends. She could be comfortable with that._

_But she didn't want to. She couldn't._

_She didn't care that, perhaps, he was just looking out for her emotional well-being. She didn't care that they _are_ only friends, and that he just wanted to clear things out. She didn't care that she probably should have let him say it, and that they should have probably talked about it._

_She couldn't. Not when he looked like that, like he had given her so much power to devastate him, and that he had been expecting her to. He wanted to hear her finally say it, tell him how things _are_, expecting that she would just get on with it and rip it out, like a bandaid._

_But she had told him not to talk. And he had been okay with it._

_So now, here they are, stacking everyday. Practically Best Friends._

_(Beca cringes at the thought, because it is so horribly clichéd, and so sad at the same time.)_

_"Watsup?" He merrily asks, bouncing over to her._

_"I think I've got it now," she says. "So, The Purple Rose Of Cairo is about a girl—"_

_"Mhmm."_

_"—who loves movies, when suddenly, the movie guy comes to life, and the actor also suddenly likes her, but then," she stands on tiptoe to replace a CD, "it was all, like, fake? Did I get it right?"_

_"Yeah, that pretty much sums it up," Jesse answers, stepping in to take the CD from her hand and save the day, chuckling because she _had_ been paying attention yesterday. She moves over to the table, just when Luke opens the door, his muscular arms menacingly crossed over his torso._

_"You two. We need to talk."_

Uh-oh.

_Beca's smile is wiped clean. Oh well, she'll have to own up to the broken glass sometime..._

_"It was me," Jesse suddenly says, no hesitation. Beca turns her head abruptly towards him, and Luke is confused. But by now, he's getting used to these two confusing him._

_"I didn't even say anything ye—"_

_"Yeah, I know, but I know what your gonna say, and it was me," Jesse answers, and his tone is just so chill that Beca can't quite keep up with what he's doing. He moves over to the desk, looking like he had just admitted to accidentally misplacing the "B" CDs, even though he had just basically admitted to destroying station property._

_And yet, he turns to fix his posture at Luke, facing him head-on, and it's such a leveled glare that speaks a ton about how invincible he feels at the moment._

Oh boy,_ Beca thinks. Too much testosterone in the room._

_"Well," Beca says, before the two of them ignite the air, "it's just glass, right? No big deal, both of you need to chill your boxers."_

_"No Becky, it's not," Luke says, his eyes fixed on Jesse before he turns back towards the booth._

_"Come on, Luke," Jesse says, breaking his stare to go back to work, "glass breaks all the time. The world is an imperfect place," he says, giving Beca a smile as he does._

_"Yea, whatever," Luke says, turning back to the booth. "Also, for the record, Beca, I wear briefs," he adds, winking at Beca because that will piss Jesse off. And it does. Jesse looks murderous. So she gives Jesse a mild smile, wrinkles her nose and shakes her head about Luke, and it tempers him._

.:.

* * *

Beca is still watching intently, not realizing that, with every hard-hitting line, her walls suffer a blow. But then... Everything in the movie is speaking to her. Like, _everything_.

_"I don't think either one of them gives a shit about me. It's like they use me just to get back at each other,"_ Claire says. About her parents.

Oh my _god_.

Beca didn't sign up for this shit.

.:.

* * *

_It's Christmas. People are going to be going home, for Christmas break. But not Beca. She'll be sitting in her plain ol' dorm, making her mixes while being free of the hazardous and time-consuming stresses of normal college life._

_And while she tells herself that it's totally fine that she won't be having plans for the holiday, just like she hadn't for the previous eighteen years of her life, she can't help the strangeness that she feels this year. She actually, kind of, in a teency bit, wants to spend her holiday in the company of good people. Like, aca-people. Like the Bellas. And Jesse. Or anybody, actually. This socializing thing is growing on her._

_Unfortunately, her parents had been fighting, and it's a no-fly-zone for either households for her, so this year, she will have to be left to her own devices._

_Fixing the uprightness of a line of CDs along the G-P shelves, she sighs exasperatedly, with Jesse beside her, as it's their last day of work before the break._

_"So you're really not going anywhere?" Jesse asks._

_"Nope. Parents are on world war. God, I swear, just, sometimes..." Beca shoves Keane a little more forcefully into the shelf._

_She hates it. It's always been like this in her house; one insane incident after another and everything just dominoes into something that always ends up affecting her. And then, there's the fact that she's always this tool they use against each other, because she's the last, and the only, neutral ground between them left. She feels little less than some prize after the divorce, what with the constant battles between parents. Even after her father had left, she can still feel the aftershock of when they had been together. She's never really had an idea of what solid ground feels like. But, hey. Whatever._

_"I feel like Poland, but whatever," she finishes with a sigh. Jesse is silent for a beat, before he finally speaks up._

_"Got any mistletoe wishes?"_

_His sudden change of topic takes Beca aback, because that was a huge leap of discussion. But then, she realizes what he's doing. Always looking our for her, even in her own words, trying to take her mind off the things that are messing with her. This is one of the reasons why she hasn't quit the station yet; this dork's ability to totally know what she's going through, and not patronize her for it. She opens up just as much as she would, and he doesn't push it. He never does._

.:.

* * *

She cannot help that she remembers him at random parts of the movie. Not having anyone around does that to people, she guesses.

(And she had learned from her Intro to Psych that people remember the person they care about the most, during times like these.)

_"When you grow up, your heart dies,"_ Allison says. And yet again, Jesse is at the forefront of her mind...

.:.

* * *

_"I don't even know what to say to you."_

_They are at the quad, and Jesse is giving Beca a lecture on the importance of having a Disney phase, when she had told him that she hasn't even watched The Little Mermaid. He had proceeded to give a side-lecture on how important it was for her to know, to _understand_, that Andersen's Disney-butchered classic is a must. A must, he tells her. Especially because Prince Eric is the hottest animated Disney prince of all time (at which point, Beca doesn't even try to hide her amusement at his mancrush)._

_"So what _did_ you watch back then?"_

_"I dunno," she says, leaning back on her bag as Jesse does the same, "I guess I was just too mature for all those."_

_They fall into a slow, ambient quiet, the two of them lying down, staring at the clouds. Somewhere in the universe, people are fighting, lying, and being their nasty selves, but right now, Beca thinks, this is what peace must feel like. Their chests rise and fall with almost the same rhythm, to the same air (and she hopes, to the same feeling). She doesn't know if Jesse realizes that this is the closest to happy that she's been in a while, and she debates as to whether or not she should tell him so._

_But of course, in a little while, she would have to go to class. And then graduate. And then get a job. Get a life. Family. Babies. Yikes._

_"Growing up sucks," she says, out of the blue._

_"When you grow up, your heart dies," he replies._

.:.

* * *

She hadn't realized that his words had been a reference back to this movie, at the time. In fact, quite a number of his words are from movies. Jesse is a patchwork of cinematic references, facts, and lines. But she had been too absorbed in her own little world to take the time to appreciate that.

_"You know, you really do look a lot better without all that black shit under your eyes," _Claire says, while putting makeup on Allison.

This makes Beca almost full-on laugh, because her nerd is always full of surprises.

.:.

* * *

_She had been sick, in her dorm, not bothering to face the world and thus, not bothering to put a line of makeup on her face. Which is why she had shooed away everyone who dared to visit her; Chloe's cookies and every other food product were taken from behind the door, and she wouldn't dare let Fat Amy see her like this. Without makeup._

_She is a girl, okay. She may be a weird, alt-girl with some mad-lib beats, but she is a girl nonetheless._

_So when she had been expecting Stacie with her request of Chinese takeout, and is greeted by Jesse at the door, she is not pleased._

_She opens the door, sees him, a wave of shock floods her, and she closes the door._

_"Beca? You okay? Heard you were sick," she hears him say from behind the door, and she closes her eyes and curses her stupid, pale face for not cooperating. Fine. Whatever. She opens the door again._

"What?" _she says, with a coating of bitchiness. But instead of being greeted by the usual OMG-you-don't-have-any-makeup stare, Jesse looks at her... and smiles. Not even the cheeky smile; the genuine smile, that adoring smile that he usually has. And it takes her bitch-mode down a notch._

_He's never seen her without makeup. Hell, almost no living creature in the world has seen her without makeup, because you don't get to shit like that with Beca Mitchell and live to tell the tale._

_But here he is, with a thermos, with that goofy face and she's just waiting for him to somehow throw a punchline, a joke, anything, but he stays his ground. After a few moments of awkward silence and him staring at her stupidly, he finally gets his balls to speak._

_"I just wanted to check up on you and give you this," he hands her the thermos. "It's chicken soup, homemade. It's really good."_

_"Thanks," she says, with a coating of _You're being really weird right now.

_But he still stands there, and Beca is starting to feel really weird under his gaze, because she just doesn't understand why he's staring at her. Is she that hideous without makeup that she would captivate him like she had just spouted three extra limbs?_

_"Oh-kay, so, I'm gonna... go..." Beca starts, trying to will away the awkward._

_"You know, you really do look a lot better without all that black shit under your eyes."_

_(At which, Beca throws him one of her infamous _Oh, wow, did you just really say that? _faces_._)_

_"I'm sorry, that's not, umm..."_

_She hates how she finds Flustered!Jesse just too amusing to pass up. She's not mad, but it's just too funny how he's being so speechless right now._

_"Black shit? Is that what you think of my face everyday?"_

_"God, no! I mean, that's not what I meant, I mean... I just, I... You know, how do I say this without sounding sarcastic?" he finally asks her. Her face is basically radiating mockery at him, because he is being a dork._

_"Dude, just say it! I look horrible," she says, laughing. But this takes away the joking in his expression._

_"You look beautiful."_

_She rolls her eyes. (Because, really, what can she retort to that?)_

_"Anyway, get well soon," he says, as he hastily kisses the top of her head and scuttles off, leaving a perplexed, sick, and makeup-less Beca at the door, as she decides that, okay, just this once, she will let it pass._

.:.

* * *

Beca doesn't know how long the movie actually is, because she has been living with the five teenagers during the whole time. It's an entire Saturday with them for her, sharing their emotions and feeling their pain. And oh god, there was too much.

And then Molly goes over to Bender, kisses his neck.

_"Why'd you do that?"_ Bender asks.

_"'Cause I knew you wouldn't."_

Shit.

Beca pauses the movie for a moment. She needs a moment. She needs a breather for a while, because that was just... like... _ugh_. She takes deep breaths, collects herself, because goddamn if she's gonna cry at this movie. She will not. Beca does not do cinematic tears.

She resumes the movie, but as much as she tries to collect herself, only one thought keeps on popping up:

Jesse.

(And that she had been such a dick.)

And then she hears Simple Minds again, echoing the song that had so carelessly introduced the movie. She had never been one for movies, because she had never experienced the intensity of falling into a world so different, yet, so similar to her own. Except now, it's playing, and it's not a song anymore. The movie is not just a movie, the characters aren't just fiction. And after everything, she is not going to lie to herself anymore.

She had seen him in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. He was just "someone" to her. A friend, dork, nerd. No more, no less. Even when she knew she cared for him. Even if she still does. The undeniable hole where Jesse used to be is starting really gnaw at her insides, because her loneliness, this feeling that she has, _this is on her_. Not him, not the Bellas, and not Aubrey. This is all her.

She had been this way all her life, but if this movie had proved anything, it's that Jesse is certainly not just _someone_ in her life.

_"Sincerely yours, The Breakfast Club."_

And as Judd Nelson raises his fist in the air, she laughs to herself. Because it's just so... _Jesse_. To love this movie and share it with her that night in her dorm. And she's sniffing and crying and she doesn't know what's happening to her face. Like, _goddamn_, where did these tears come from? She wipes them away as she shucks her headphones off to hear the burning behind her eyes from her emotional dam, breaking here and now.

But she's grateful anyway, because try as she might to deny it, as she had been denying it _to the bones_, Jesse, that weirdo who had befriended her that day at the station, had led her to this moment.

"Oh my god, okay," she says to no one in particular, calming her breaths, and wiping the snot away from her face because if she doesn't get a grip, she just might start bawling.

At the fact that Jesse probably hates her right now. _Oh god._

But because she is Beca, she resolves to see this as a challenge. Yes, Jesse (her quasi-best-friend) is probably hurt right now, because she had been such a bitch. But no matter, she decides.

She will get him back. On the blood of the Bellas who came before, she will get him back.

* * *

**AN: **I am so sorry. Real life is catching up on me and I have a limited inspiration period everyday (it's six to nine in morning) and I had to scrap and re scrap this chapter just so it would fit. Still not sure.

in any case, I will not be sappy and reiterate how much I super love you all for reading. I should stop now. I will get ready for the next chapter, which will hopefully, come sooner. so, thank you.

For _Meggers_. I know it's late, but happy birthday. :)

next chapter of Endings is also 90% done, so yeah.

(Someday, I will go back to this chapter and fix it and stuff. So sorry if it feels like a filler.)

_Coming soon: Bellas and Trebles get ready for finals..._


	34. 34: LSD

In the heat of high-intensity internal emotional drama from last night, Beca turns to the one thing that she knows can comfort her tortured soul.

Burritos.

Which is why, at seven AM in the morning, after watching The Breakfast Club last night, and three hours at miserably failing at trying to get some shut-eye, she decides to walk over to Zippy's.

Sure, it was a good forty minutes of legwork at a particular hour of the day that should never have been created by God, but she needed the exercise. (It is cardio, after all. And without Bellas practices, her body is weirdly screaming for workout.) She needed to put her mind at work or she will just end up breaking down like the Bumper-induced bus breakdown during the semi-finals when she had basically shouted at Jesse how worthless he was to... _Damnit_.

It's been like this since that stupid movie, all her thoughts somehow finding a common endpoint, which is none other than the source of her constantly-evolving feelings and reason for her going out on a Burrito run and being awake at seven in the morning for the first time since kindergarten.

Zippy's is one of the favorite off-campus source for the most god-awfully greasy, unhealthy, heavenly junk food that college students have been known to ingest truckloads of during stressful periods of college life. Which is to say, all-year-round. It's nearing the end of spring break, and the place is starting to fill up with early-arrival students.

As Beca patiently waits for her Large Bacontastic by the counter, a familiar voice greets her.

"Oh, it's you. Bella."

Upon impulse, she whips her head at the mention of the group that she is ex-affiliated with, and sees Donald, burrito bag in hand, smiling at her beside the counter. Jesse's friend. (She should stop relating everything to him.) So she returns a genuine, if not a bit tight, smile.

"Beca the Bella," Donald says.

"You know my name," she comments. They've never really talked before, but she knows Jesse looks up to this guy, so he must be pretty decent.

"Know your name? I could write a dissertation on you from the way Jes—"

He catches himself and grimaces. Ah, so he knows.

"Sorry, my bad."

"It's fine," she answers, brushing it off. And because she has nothing better to say, and it's getting a little awkward, and she really is curious, "How is... he, by the way?"

She tries to make it sound as casual and as totally chilled as she possibly could, staring at a random employee out back who is frying fritters in toxic, over-used oil. But because it is probably in the Treble code to have a certain degree of arrogance (and not even Jesse is exempt from this rule), Donald doesn't try to pretend that he doesn't notice what she's doing.

"You guys haven't talked, have you."

"Yeah, well." Beca grabs her order from the same guy frying fritters (because, on top of violating state health codes, Zippy's is also severely understaffed). "Can't talk to him if he's not around now, can I?"

She starts walking out. She doesn't like being made to feel like an idiot. Even if she is. She's a total, complete idiot, there is no other way to put it. But because stubbornness is also a premium Treble trait, Donald is following at her heels.

"You know," he says in the parking lot, (panting because she's walking too fast, and he drives around all the time so he's not exactly a walker) "there's this invention called the cellphone—"

"I don't have his number so would you just drop it?" she says, abruptly turning around to face him. She doesn't mean to sound so snarky, but she'd barely slept all throughout spring break, because of the station. And by "station", she means _station buddy_, and by "station buddy", she means _Jesse_.

"Why didn't you say so? I have it right here," he answers right back, whipping out his phone to give her Jesse's new number.

"Sorry," he adds, not even looking up from his phone, "I forgot. Dude got drunk second day of spring break, threw his phone out the car in the middle of the freeway. It was my fault, cause I took him to—"

"Whoa, is he okay?" _Damnit_, that sounded too desperate.

Donald looks up at her and gives her a sheepish smile. Now she knows why Jesse likes this guy; there's a kindness there that can't be feigned, and she appreciates it.

"He's fine." The way he says it is laced with so many things unsaid. Meaning: Jesse is _fine_. But not in the way he knows she is referring to.

They walk together, sometimes in silence, sometimes not, eating their respective burritos. Going back to campus, an ex-Bella and a senior Treble. They talk about a number of topics, including, but not limited to, Bumper's burrito substance abuse, the Treble's practices, him being a senior (_seniorism_, as he has termed it), Benji, etc., always carefully avoiding topics that she might be uncomfortable with, like the Bellas, the station, Aubrey, and of course...

"I need to know," Beca says, interrupting Donald in the middle of his diatribe against Bumper's explosive burrito aftermath. She stops him, looks him dead in the eyes because _she needs to know_.

There are two things about Donald: 1) Out of all the Trebles, he is the cool one. No freezer can surpass the outstanding cool he brings with him everywhere. 2) In this aspect, he is the Beca of the Trebles: cool, calm, and perpetually devoid of any shits to give.

So when she asks him with her eyes, pleading in the only way cool people can understand each other, he gets it.

"Look, Beca, how do you think he is? You told him off in the middle of backstage before performance. Not to mention, _after_ he tries to stand up for you. The guy is upset, man."

They resume walking, but Donald is an honest guy.

"I told him to forget about you and move on."

"What? Dude..." Beca stops in her tracks.

"I'm his friend. It's part of the bro code. Either that or listen to him listen to sad songs on infinite repeat. And I'm talking, heavy shit, man. Like, Celine Dion heavy."

"...Huh."

Talking to Donald is opening so many new doors she never thought existed, and the hard-hitting revelation of who Jesse is to her suddenly clutches at her heart, and won't let go. The sudden thought of him, not being around, completely forgetting about her... _Completely. Forgetting. About. Her_... like, backing off from her, the way she had told him to. Except, _forever_... shit. Only now does she realize the gravity of what she had done to him, and how far she's actually fallen into the deep, shitty hole she's dug for herself.

They resume walking, and reach the campus with their half-eaten burritos. This is where their little therapy session ends, unfortunately, as the two of them must resume their occupations as cool people, who do not talk to other cool people except out of necessity.

"Why don't you text him first?" Donald says by way of a final word.

"I'll do that."

"Cool. See ya." And he starts walking. Back to Zippy's.

"Dude, where you going?" Beca asks, suddenly.

"Oh, I parked my car at Zippy's."

"WHAT?!" Beca is shitting bricks. He merely gives her a shrug in response. _Why the hell would he do that?_

"Why the hell would you do that?" she asks, because _what_.

Another shrug. And a sheepish smile.

"So you just... walked out here, with me. No reason at all, when you could have taken your car."

"Seemed like you could use the company."

It's an aquarium dumped over Beca's brain from the fishiness of the situation. She has half a mind to ask him why he's being so nice, but she doesn't press on. The instinct to let it go kicks in.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

After a few steps, Donald calls out, "And Beca!" She turns around.

"Talk to him. He needs to know."

Beca isn't exactly sure what Donald means by "know", but she does understand what he meant by "talk to him"... she thinks. Yeah, sure. That's easy. She'll talk to Jesse. One of these days.

...

Later that day, when the text announcing the Bellas' second chance arrives, the Bellas are in their own little worlds.

There's Chloe, who had been in the hospital, listening to Lil' Wayne. Fat Amy had been at her cousin's boyfriend's sister's husband's pool, enjoying the company of a bunch of other random, hot strangers who are not nearly half as distantly related to the host. Ashley, Jessica, and Denise had been on the second leg of their marathon of Downtown Abbey at a sleepover (okay, so they were taking a break from the accented drama by watching Magic Mike). Cynthia Rose had been on her third last poker game ever, where she learns that there is no correlation between her luck in a capella and her luck in general. Beca had been texted by Chloe right about the time John Cusack had held up the boom box right under the window in Say Anything.

The last two Bellas to find out are Lilly and Stacie, who had been too busy with Donald.

...

Lilly puts the phone to her ears, struggling to hear the mechanical reading of the text (she likes to listen to her phone _talk_ to her), while she separates herself from the crowd of impromptu rappers and beat-boxers. Going over to Stacie, who had been the recipient of a steady stream of flirts from multiple guys, Lilly gives her a quiet little tap on the shoulder.

"Sorry, Hun, I'm off the tables today," Stacie says as a deterrent to Flirt #8, after finishing the cup of beer he gave her. "What is it?" she asks, turning to Lilly, who gives her her phone.

She reads it. And practically weeps.

"OH MY GOD!"

The two Bellas are freaking out with joy when Donald comes up to them.

"'Sup gu—whoa, what's with all the—"

"Guess who gets a second chance at kicking your fine ass?" Stacie says, finally letting go of Lilly, with whom she had been jumping up and down. Lilly nods her assent as well.

"Wait, what?" Donald is confused.

Right after getting a burrito earlier that day, Donald had taken the two Bellas to a beat-boxing "thingamajigger", where Lilly had been honing her skills all throughout spring break, behind Aubrey's back. Stacie had hitched a ride going back to campus, with Donald. Safe to say that Donald, the awesome aca-demigod he is, has gotten close with the two aca-girls, who happen to be best friends.

"We're going to the finals, bitchesssss!" Stacie practically yells at him, while Lilly does an amusingly accurate Flo Rida hand gesture. And then Stacie, half from excitement, and half from the alcohol, gets a marvelous idea (she will later blame it, _all of it_, on the alcohol).

"Drop me a beat, Lil!" And Lilly does. She drops a beat, because she's the realest shit up in this town.

_"Yellow model chick. Yellow bottle sippin'. Yellow lamborghini. Yellow top missin'..."_

Stacie may be a super-flexible, super-skank sex machine with fine legs, but she's a super-flexible, super-skank sex machine _who can rap _(with fine legs. Don't forget the legs)_._ And because Lilly is a badass Asian with a penchant for uncanny hidden talents, together, the two Bellas lay down the sickest beats in the building, shaming every other bystander around.

_"Look at me now, look at me now, ohh... I'm getting paper..."_

And because this was all Donald's doing anyway, they sing it to him, a Treblemaker, letting him know just what the Bellas are capable of. And his grin is one of a proud Jedi master (that wasn't exactly a cool comparison but Benji is rubbing off on him okay).

_"Look at me now, look at me now, oh... Yeah, fresher than a Treblemaker."_

...

"I luuurv you guys... so murrch... 'sthat a bunny?"

A few hours and two gallons of alcohol later, Lilly is helping Stacie into Donald's car, herself a little wobbly. Stacie had insisted to "celebrate", causing them to crash a nearby frat party where a number of other rappers, Donald's other friends (yes, he has friends outside of the Treble house, because is a well-rounded individual with a perfect GPA and a holistic education) are crashing. Things progressed from mildly-normal to mildly-Stacie to almost-Stacie within half the night, eventually culminating to a purely-Stacie level, where Stacie needs to be peeled off from any and all objects with remotely two legs.

Lilly isn't exactly an expert on "normal" either; the woman can drink like a Russian truck driver, without changing any of her weirder tendencies, like setting fire to random people's hair.

But it's a great thing that Donald isn't a Treblemaker tonight. He's just Donald, chaperone to two of his arch enemies as they celebrate another chance at defeating his team. No big deal.

"Where youuur being sho nice tus?" Stacie asks, head on Lilly's lap, nursing her alcohol-addled brain at the back of Donald's car. Lilly whispers something that sounds like assent.

He had befriended Lilly after their semi-finals bus ride, after she randomly beat-hums a tune. They became friends, and because Stacie is a good friend of Lilly's (best friend, more like), the three of them had been hanging out quite a lot, which is the equivalent of saying hi to each other and not mutually thinking about the a capella rivalry, for once. Donald introduced Lilly to a few of his beat-boxer friends, and he introduced a lot of his general class of male friends (who had been _begging_ him) to Stacie, who got her pick. It was a win-win.

"Youu seem to... like... always do stuffssshhh... why..." Stacie's inebriated speech slows down into a dull slur as Lilly (also inebriated in her own way) gets into a staring match with the carpet, stroking her friend's hair on her lap unblinkingly (Donald had the prudence to "hold on" to Lilly's lighter for the duration of the car ride).

"Contrary to popular belief, you girls aren't so bad," he says.

"Thanks Donald!... I think... heeeey, what poplar blief?"

"There was a rumor we drank barf juice," Lilly says, in her hamster voice.

"Eewrr... ohr my god, I think I'm 'bout to—"

"Please not in my car."

They drive on, but Donald never tells them why he's being so nice. Maybe, he just is. They are Bellas, after all.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Okay. Here goes.

A lot of ya'll have been asking me about Donald's pairing in this fic. And a lot of you have wondered whether I would be writing Stacie or Lilly. And this is the part where you will hate me.

The reason why I wrote Donald with such a backstory here is because he is quite the character in the movie. For instance, when he said "Bumper...", concerned that bumper was being too harsh to Hat. That one line, I knew then that I had to write him in. He plays a major singing role, but we hardly ever hear him speak. He's always too cool, being in the background, driving the Treble bus, texting, etc.

As for his pairing...

I don't know if I could write him further with either of these two Bellas, because I wouldn't know how. You will hate me for this, but Stacie and Lilly had been, and still are, my favorite Bellas because of the humor they bring. I wouldn't know how they are when it comes to relationship stuff. I am so, so sorry. I know a lot of you would be so disappointed. I sincerely apologize to those of you who had been hoping he would get with Lilly, or Stacie, because I love both pairings. So I, instead, wrote that these three are close-knit shenaniganners. :) Yes, I do have a headcanon pairing for him, based on the movie, but I'm debating as to whether or not I'll include it here. (And no, he is not in love with Bumper. Let's just get that possibility out of the way.) :)

I hope that, despite this development, you would not hate me so much. Because I love every single one of you for sticking with me in this. :) So thank you, in any case, and I'm so, very sorry if I disappointed you in this aspect. The next chapter will be back to your regularly-scheduled programming.

Okay, I think that's it. Imma go cry now.

_Next Up: "I'm done." "Jesse..."_


	35. 35: Yet

**AN: **Music: _Yet_ - Switchfoot

* * *

_"All attempts have failed. All my heads are tails."_

"Jesse..." she tries to keep away the dangerously close breaking of her voice.

"I'm done," he finishes.

And finish, he does, closing the door at her. She can feel her walls crash, then and there, and this is all the proof she needs to realize that it's not just him. It's her, too. A part of her is with him. Or at least, _had been_ with him. Now, it's just gone.

...

_"She's got teary eyes."_

She walks away from his room, biting back bitter tears.

...

_"I've got reasons why."_

He closes the door after her. He had decided that he was done, because he is. He cannot pretend anymore, he will not. He's beyond the place where he needs to feel it to know that the effect this woman has on him is _not_, in any way, shape, or form, good for either of them.

Because she doesn't know what she wants, he knows it's not _this_. He's not going to make that mistake again.

...

_"I'm losing ground and gaining speed, I've lost myself, or most of me..."_

She can feel the weight of a final, resolute feeling in her chest, as she walks away with a pain worse than rejection. So this is what it feels like to lose someone.

But Jesse isn't just _someone_. He was the nerd who took her in, earspike and all. He was the weirdo who wouldn't stop pestering her and trying to make her smile, singing to her and at her and talking to her and at her and he didn't stop caring, even when he had every reason to, despite her pushing away. Until she pushed too much, and finally, he stopped.

This is what it feels like to lose _Jesse_.

...

_"I'm heading for the final precipice..."_

He is surprised that it hadn't taken him much to close the door on her. He had been so afraid he wouldn't be able to do it, but now that it's done, he wonders if he's happy.

...

_"But you haven't lost me yet..."_

All throughout the day, he had been wondering if he's happy. He tries to gauge his emotions, even tonight, as he finds himself aimlessly wondering around the hush of campus, the question playing over and over again in his mind, like a broken record that is almost as damaged as he is.

He finds his feet still carry him towards her.

...

_"No, you haven't lost me yet."_

Beca doesn't cry.

The Breakfast Club had been an exception. But in the general scheme of her life, her heart is usually, stubbornly cold, like her personality. It's just the way she is, and it's a fine part of her.

But tonight, lying down on her bed, her body drained from the emotional toll of everything that had happened today, she finds that she cannot sleep.

...

_"These days pass me by, dream with open eyes."_

His spring break had been a blur. He took up too many things and told himself too many lies to be able to support the claim that _he's fine_. All that it has done is made him into a better liar.

...

_"Nightmares haunt my days, visions blur my nights."_

One would think that the break would have given her rest, but the silence had only served to amplify the ache she felt. She hadn't been able to sleep much. Even if today had been wrought with new beginnings, tonight is no exception.

...

_"I'm so confused what's true or false, what's fact or fiction after all..."_

Walking towards Baker Hall, he recalls the events of earlier...

"Well, you better figure it out, because I'm done with..."

There's a thin pause, a tiny sliver of hesitation before he was able to finish that sentence.

_This_. The final, unidentified term of their relationship finally catches up with them, and he is unable to confront the implications of it.

He doesn't know what _this_ is, but he knows how it feels. It feels like the air in his lungs, or the lack thereof. It feels like the ground under his feet, or the lack thereof. It's feels like his voice, his being... or the lack thereof. It feels like Beca when she's with him. Or the lack, thereof.

"...whatever this is."

...

_"I feel like I'm an apparition's pet..."_

Never had the station felt more empty than when she had once called out his name, completely forgetting that he wasn't around. He won't be, and maybe, he never will. The thought had taken hold of her, causing her to lose focus and wander around the station, finding bits of him everywhere, scattered here and there. A sticky note, an empty juice pouch, The Breakfast Club. It was inescapable.

...

_"But you haven't lost me yet..."_

He doesn't know what he's going to say to her, once he arrives at her dorm. It's late, Kimmy Jin will be pissed, and he doesn't know what he's going to say.

But he walks on, anyway.

...

_"No, you haven't lost me yet..."_

She doesn't know how long it has been since she's talked to him. She had stopped keeping track sometime during the break. She had texted him meaningless little things, little nudges and pokes after watching, literally several hours of the movies that had only been meaningless titles to her during the last year. Jaws was amazing, E.T. was incredible, and Slumdog Millionaire is now, automatically, one of her favorites (courtesy of Donald that morning). So she had texted him little things, little inside jokes that she hopes would tell him, would _miraculously communicate_, just how much she misses him.

Things like, how they totally get the shark, and if Donald can watch Slumdog without subtitles, always trivial things, because she is hoping he will read between the lines.

But he doesn't. He doesn't ever reply.

...

_"I'll run until my heart caves in..."_

She tried to call him, but either he left his phone somewhere, five times, or he wasn't picking up. Because he didn't want to talk to her.

The last day of break, she holds her phone in her hands, sitting at the floor of her dorm. She doesn't know why she does it, but she tries to leave him a voice message.

...

_"No, you haven't lost me yet."_

_"Jesse... It's me. Beca. Hey... um... I've been texting you and I'm just worried that, I don't know, you don't reply so I guess I'm just wondering where you are... I... do that a lot, lately. Wonder where you are. I just... don't know where you are, Jesse... Wow, that sounded so weird, but..._

_"Listen, I'm sorry, I got mad. I never meant to hurt you... I hope you know that."_

She ends there, because she doesn't know how else to end it. It had taken her the rest of the night, trying to decide if she would send it, or delete it. In the end, she still wasn't sure.

.:.

* * *

She replays that moment, earlier that day, over and over in her mind...

"Hey... tried to call you. I left you a bunch of messages."

"Yeah, I got them."

The way he had looked at her at that moment had been enough to tell her that something has changed between them. There is a disconnect. He is far away, distanced, and so, very different. It _kills_ her.

And he knows. Even if she won't tell him, he knows.

He knows that some part of her, to some degree, returns his affection. It's the elephant in the room, the one thing that they both _feel_, but never talk about.

But now that she's face to face with him, trying to make amends after realizing that she made a mistake, the question is if she understands _this_. Enough to tell him, explicitly, what _this_ is. But because she has a hardwired tendency to refuse emotional situations, her words do not quite fall into place.

"I'm sorry we fought, I was mad, and I over-reacted, and just, Aubrey makes me crazy..."

...

The way she says it, there's something not quite in place. He can read her by now like a book, and the casualness of her words pierce through his numbness.

"Seriously? You think I'm mad because you yelled at me?"

He's not even mad. After all this time, after getting to know her so well, he realizes that she doesn't seem to understand what's happening here. What _this_ is.

"No, you don't. You think you know, but you don't."

She doesn't know how he had gotten himself drunk in an effort to forget. Doesn't know how he had gotten into a fist fight and bust his lip. She doesn't know how he had practically begged Luke to play her music all throughout the year. She doesn't know how much she means to him. How it had hurt when she had barely glanced up at him or when she had refused his help so carelessly. She doesn't know how he feels, how effortlessly she had thrown him aside.

But what hurts the most is that, even now, she doesn't know that he's not mad. He is simply broken to the point of numbness.

...

"You push away everyone who could possibly care about you. Why is that?"

"I don't know."

Maybe she doesn't know. Or maybe, she simply doesn't want to admit that shutting everybody out was just easier, less messy, and a whole lot less confusing. Except for right now, with him. With him, it's the complete opposite.

.:.

* * *

_"If it doesn't break..."_

It doesn't come as a surprise to her when she feels a part of her heart collapse on itself as she relives the memory of losing him.

...

_"If it doesn't break..."_

It comes as a surprise to him why he is now in front of her dorm in the dead of night, trying to think of something to say to her.

...

_"If it doesn't break..."_

The heavy weight in her chest finally _gives_, her breathing suffering from the growing realization, right in the middle, where her heart is supposed to be.

...

_"If... it..."_

He is about to knock, just to see her again, talk to her again, be with her, once more, or something. He wants to see her. But he can't.

...

_"...doesn't break your heart, it isn't love."_

She tries to understand why she's suddenly, so suddenly, plunged into this strange feeling, completely alien to her nature. It happened gradually, then all at once, and there's this pain, this strange, heavy emptiness. The one person who would understand is the one person that she lost today. She doesn't know why it's suddenly hard to breath, where this weight came from, right in the middle of her chest. But then, she realizes that she's crying.

...

_"If it doesn't break you heart, it's not enough."_

He tries to ask himself what he's doing, but he doesn't have an answer. He doesn't know why, after shutting her out, he is contemplating knocking her door tonight. There is no logic behind his actions.

His head is leaning dejectedly on the panel of her door, and he has half a mind to throw logic away, when, in a brief moment of severe contemplation, he realizes that he won't be able to take it one more time. He's barely held together as it is.

So he walks away.

...

_"It's when you're breaking down, with your insides coming out..."_

This late into the night, Jesse walks away from Beca's dorm. Whatever emotion had gravitated him to see her at this hour, he wills himself to forget. Because the thought of losing her over and over again, one try after another, always, the repeated reminder that he cares for her more than he should, is too much. He had meant it when he had said he is done.

He loves her too much to make her push him away again. He lets it go.

...

_"That's when you find out what your heart is made of."_

This late into the night, Beca is crying. She can't pinpoint the source, and she doesn't want to. She is fucking terrified to find out. So she just lets herself cry, hoping that her sobs would ease the weight, the hole, right where she can feel her heart beating into the silence that covers her.

How had she been able to go on for so long, without realizing how much of her was with him?

It's stupid, it really is. So she gets up, and opens her laptop to start mixing. She puts on Simple Minds, because he may be done with her, but he will find out that she still has a couple of tricks up her sleeve.

She's not about to let him go that easily.

...

_"And you haven't lost me yet..."_

He tries to sleep. He cannot.

Her messages, all of them, are unopened in his phone. But with every waking moment tonight, and with the implications of everything he had decided upon, it would do him good to achieve closure. He tells himself that closure, a final word, is what he needs from her. So he opens her latest message and listens to the sound of her voice.

_"...I hope you know that."_

He does know. This is what hurts him the most.

...

_"No, you haven't lost me yet..."_

All her life, her music had revolved around her, and only her. It was her soul.

But music had never gone out of it's way to sing for her and to her. It had never tried to make her smile in sincere effort. It had never engaged her in witty banter, or asked her how her day was doing. It has certainly never given her juice pouches. She loved it, but it had never really loved her back.

It had taken a great loss for her to finally see that now.

...

_"I'll sing until my heart caves in, but you haven't lost me yet."_

So she puts all her creative effort into her mix, fueled by her desire to do something right, for once. She has almost calmed the chaos that had been today's emotional roller coaster, and she's ready to call it a night, at four in the morning, when her phone beeps.

_April 8; 4:02 AM_

_From: Jesse Swanson_

_I know._

...

_"Cause you haven't lost me yet."_

For the first time, Beca is not afraid to try. Because maybe, just maybe, she hasn't lost him yet.


	36. 36: Confessions

**AN: **Part 1 of 2. Please read extended Author's Note after chapter, for, you know, sorry. :(

* * *

Beca has had a total of forty-five minutes of sleep, to the minute. She knows this, because didn't sleep. Not a wink. She's been counting the seconds. Every, little, ticking eon. She did go to bed at four-thirty, and she took note of that. Three minutes later, and it feels like an eternity. The rest of the forty-two minutes passes by just like so, and she didn't sleep a moment of it. So when the the clock hits the five-fifteen mark, she decides to wake up from her non-sleep.

She needs some air.

She gets up, gets dressed, gets her laptop and headphones, gets what's left of herself off the metaphorical floor in order to take walk out in the quad. Her eyes are swollen, and she won't be bothered to wear makeup for an early morning walk.

She's never been a morning person, but maybe, if she makes an exception just this once, the universe would be kind to her and give her the one exception that she doesn't deserve.

The Bellas rehearsals are at eight, and she's excited for that. She really is. In fact, just thinking about it makes her smile, as she now stops at one of the benches outside her dorm, near the quad. She puts her headphones on, feeling the change of surroundings, change of time. Change of everything.

She puts on Taylor Swift, just because.

She's humming Dear John when Amy passes by her, going somewhere (or having come from somewhere [boys' dorms], probably, where she spent the night, and sneaking out after "celebrating" last night). She lifts her eyes up just in time to see Amy do a double take.

Amy cannot believe it. Beca... exists in the mornings?

"Hey, what're you doing up?" Amy says, as she makes her way to Beca and sits beside her on the bench. She barely hears Beca's reply of "nothing" when she notices Beca's swollen eyes and sees the open playlist on Beca's laptop. Immediately, her eyes pop out. She trains them on Beca.

Beca replies with a similarly questioning look, feigning innocence at the implications of Amy's stare.

So she knows the lyrics of Dear John, okay?

(Almost as much as she memorizes Party in the USA. But that information is irrelevant.)

...

(later...)

The second thought in Chloe's mind this Tuesday is that the Bellas are about to kick ass, and the rest of the world better know it.

The first is that her phone is belting out The Pussycat Dolls at six in the morning.

_"Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot, like me..."_

That's Fat Amy's ringtone. She gropes around on her desk, her face still buried in her feather pillows.

_"Don't ch—"_ "Mmpphhhee?" she groans into her phone.

_"It's a code red. She listening to Taylor. Taylor Swift, Chloe!"_

Shit. This makes Chloe sit straight up.

...

Aubrey is used to waking up at four in the morning to do her Pilates on Tuesdays, but for this Tuesday, she makes an exception. It's about time she loosened up a bit, so she had decided to set her alarm for 6:30. So when her phone starts ringing at 6:12, the accuracy of her body clock protests.

She jolts up from her bed, eyes still covered by her sleeping mask. Without missing, her hand darts for her phone, positioned parallel to her body, because she's anal that way. Chloe is on the other line.

"Hello?"

_"'Bree, it's Beca. She's... listening to Taylor."_

Shit. This makes Aubrey lift off her mask.

"Taylor... Hicks?"

_"Swift."_

"Oh my god, okay..."

She's up and dressed before 6:20.

...

On this fateful Tuesday, the Bellas' second first rehearsals are due at a sharp eight. This is the mark of their first day, a new beginning. But for some reason, as ordained by the aca-gods, everyone is there by 7:30. Everyone, except Beca.

So when Beca gets there at 8:13 AM, she steps foot into the auditorium to the glaring absence of Aubrey's usually stellar, not to mention prepared-for, speech about the golden-ness of time. What she gets, however, is a really awkward moment of silence for her arrival, like she just walked in with a sign that said "I'M EMOTIONALLY DAMAGED RIGHT NOW."

"Um... what's going on?"

She has no idea what she did to merit their stares, but they are looking at her like she just... died, and got up from the grave.

"I'm... fine?"

When none of them make a move to do anything except stare at her with that look of _feelings_ (Jessica is about to literally _cry_), she shoves it all away, changing the topic to the new mix that she worked on last night, after they have finally gotten their act together, with Aubrey's softening, after the vomit fest that was yesterday's little explosion.

And who could forget their little group therapy session?

.:.

* * *

_"Beca, I know that I've been hard on you, okay? I know that I have been hard on everyone here, but I am my father's daughter. And he always said... 'If at first you don't succeed... pack your bags.'"_

_Little did they know that Aubrey's confession would be the start of the next hour of feelings galore, of hidden tidbits about one another's lives (and some not-so-hidden ones), and of the first, legitimate bonding moment for them._

_"I have a lot of sex." Well, not exactly news, but a confession nonetheless._

_"I have a huge... gambling problem." Not expected, but still a confession._

_"I ate my twin in the womb." Weird, slightly psychopathic, but still a confession._

_"And... my real name is Fat Patricia." Not expected. At all._

_"I have been in love... with Unicycle for the past four years now. I ju- I have never acted on it because of the oath, but... god, I have wanted him ever since we met at Clown Camp®."_

_Not... just... not._

_"That's weird, but," Beca replies to Aubrey, not really knowing how to handle the revelation, "you... should be with Uni, if that will make you happy. Forget the oath."_

_"Nononono, I could never—"_

_"Aubrey," Chloe tells to her friend (who looks just about ready for a second cookie-toss), "let it go."_

_Finally, Aubrey lets it go._

_The rest of the hour is spent releasing and bonding and hearing all about Fat Amy/Patricia's bands (Fat Amy and the little chub chubs, Fat Amy and the old girl, etc.) and other exploits. Jessica hates sweets, Ashley cannot beatbox properly, Denise... likes girls (too), and Beca didn't have a lot of friends who were girls, before._

_And then came the greatest revelation of all: Chloe cannot sing her usual range._

_"I thought... this season... was over," Chloe cries._

_"Beca," Aubrey stands up, "what do we do?"_

_She tosses the holy pitch pipe, a glorious moment of relinquishing control to the one person in their group that she had finally learned to trust, enough to give her a chance. To try, for once._

_And in that moment, Beca swears Aubrey has terrible aim._

_(Beca's severe lack of hand-eye coordination did not help.)_

...

Yesterday was the mark of a new era for the Bardern Bellas, and it's a great day to start afresh. So, as the new Bella captain (after boiling the pitch pipe and soaking it in dishwashing liquid overnight), Beca works them through her mix, explaining the different parts, the sopranos, percussions, altos, and all the little details that get her excited for the upcoming finals, which is soon. Very,very soon.

_"Won't you come see about me..."_

A hush falls on the entire team as she sings the first strains of "Don't You" along to her mix, demonstrating this next song. She momentarily pauses, leaning on her laptop. Yes, okay. She can hear them looking at her. It's distracting. But she's not ready to open that Pandora's box with them quite yet.

The rest of the rehearsals proceed with a new bravado, as they work their way through the vocals, now working as a team, for each other. Because they know each other now, and it's the relationships that pull them through. Not the music or the winning.

"Alright guys, that's it for his morning. It's... 9:50, so for those of you who have classes..."

Beca gets her stuff, while the other Bellas take their time; a strange occurrence, because they're usually rushed out before any of them even finish the "ah" of their hands-in.

She leaves quickly and without hesitation. It's a work in progress.

* * *

**AN: **Oh _god_.

Yes. Yes, I understand that you all hate me right now. Hell, _I_ hate me right now, giving ya'll this horrendous chapter after being on hiatus, and then cutting it short. Not my best by a _long_ shot, I know. But in all honesty, I could never find how to write the "next" part, and you have to believe me when I say I am sorely, sorely sorry. This fic is coming to and end soon, and I know you are all expecting that "THE ENDINGS ARE THE BEST. PART." and I'm just terrified, okay, I'm sorry. This fic is my baby, and will finish it, and will try to make it good enough for you guys. The next part will be up in a bit, just need some polishing.

FYI, everything terrible about this chapter is because of me, and everything great is because of my perfect Beta. That is all.

*runs away and cries*

_Up next: Later that Tuesday, at the station..._

_Coming soon: Benji's pigeon..._

PS. For _Grey_, whose idea it was to incorporate the Bellas's help. I cannot pm you, but know that I am always grateful for your reviews. :)


	37. 37: Use the Force

(Later that Tuesday...)

God, why can't they just make automatic sorting machines?

This is the 21st Century, for crying out loud. iTunes exists. Seriously. Why did there have to be so many damned CDs? She could swear that Luke messes up at least five crates of them, just so interns like her would actually have work to do. It's either that, or Luke doesn't know his alphabet. Well, now that she thinks about it...

Her mind is digressing the weirdest shit, since she doesn't how how else to deal with his presence in the room.

If she stops thinking about Luke's literacy, or Stacie's cute nail polish during practice, or Fat Amy/Patricia's real, real name, she might start thinking about how the Bellas had looked at her this morning, the implications of which would lead to her thinking about why they were staring at her, why her eyes are puffy and red, why she doesn't want to talk about it. All roads lead to the guy on her left, holding a bunch of CDs made by artists whose names start with the letters A-F.

And then, she would proceed to thinking about how he most likely asked Luke to change shifts, and she would start thinking about the text he sent her early this morning. What he meant by that cryptic line that gave her hope as much as it took it away.

She'd like to think a part of him still cares based on that one "I know", but she woke up from a nightmare with the idea that it could very well be the other way around.

She doesn't know how she'd be able to take that.

So, yeah. Between thinking about (more like overanalyzing) Jesse, and thinking about how cute Justin Bieber is when she's shoving him right next to Selena Gomez because she can't fucking reach the B shelves, she'd much rather think about how cute Justin Bieber is.

She looks at the station clock. 11:46. Luke will be out any—

"Jesse. Lunch time."

From behind one of the shelves, she sees Jesse acknowledge the request with a nod, and head on out, without a word. He hasn't said anything, hasn't looked at her. He hasn't acknowledged her presence, which is, okay, she deserves this. She deserves a whole lot worse, actually. She hurt her best friend, who had done no wrong, _twice_. (It was actually three, but she's bad at math.) He deserves to get mad at her. Yell at her, or something. In fact, she really wish he would yell at her, because then, at least they'd be talking.

Instead, each moment of silence is like a knife twisted in her stomach.

...

He comes back with Luke's usual, proceeds to the booth to give it to Luke. Beca can just hear them as she goes by the desk for more CDs.

"Thanks," Luke says. When Jesse doesn't reply and silently proceeds back to the desk, Luke calls him out again, going outside.

"Hey," he says, hanging by the door panel, "something wrong? You haven't said a word since yesterday."

Beca is able briefly glance up to see Jesse rub the bridge of his nose, before he turns to Luke with a polite "I'm fine. It's just the stress. But thanks for the concern."

She can always tell when he's lying through his teeth, especially because Jesse is not a liar. Her gut wrenches at the thought.

She's wearing her Star Wars shirt today. The one that had garnered his attention so long ago. But even that hasn't been able to get his attention. It does, however, catches Luke's.

"Hey," Luke says, suddenly perking up, "I didn't know you like Star Wars." And he points to her shirt, ignoring Jesse's sudden tensing as he turns towards the desk to continue his sorting.

Well, shit. What's she supposed to say to that?

And then Luke is suddenly right beside her, helping with the stacking. The aca-gods are really screwing with her today.

In fact, they're screwing with both of them. Jesse may be silent, but he doesn't miss the way Luke is purposefully dicking this moment, moving a crate needlessly on top of the desk, his muscles ridiculous. Stupid, rippling pectorals.

"Did you know they're about to make a new one?" Luke says to Beca, and Jesse wants nothing more than to snort at him. That is so old news, the little faker.

"I did not know that," Beca replies, her concern placed equidistant from all the fucks she could care to give him.

"Now you do," Luke continues, "In fact, I know a small theater downtown is about to show part four again, this Friday. Care to come?"

Beca notices how Jesse is now aligning the rectangular CDs, one on top of the other, with the care of a neurosurgeon, mid-operation. He gets like this when he's particularly seething, and she knows, if they were anywhere near speaking terms right now, he would have totally laid a ready quip on Luke's move. But since he's not going to...

"Sure," Beca answers plainly. Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees Jesse's slight hesitation, the slight tensing of his jaw, before he resumes his work.

"If you can tell me who directed it, I'll go with you this Friday. Seeing as you're such a fan," she deadpans, emphasizing the "such a fan" with a mocking smile at Luke.

Because Beca is turned away from him, she doesn't see how Jesse bites the inside of his cheek, trying really hard not to let out a chuckle. So, Beca knows who directed Star Wars. Or, maybe she's just bluffing. Either way, Luke's being put on the spot is still enjoyable. He glances briefly at the scene, despite trying to play it off like he doesn't care, keeping his eyes on his precious alphabetization.

"That's easy," Luke replies, clearly hiding his total lack of knowledge, "I'll tell you on Friday."

"Sorry," Beca replies, turning back to the desk, and glancing up at Jesse (who is mustering all his goddamned resolve not to meet her eyes and share a silly inside joke).

"I don't date half-dorks," Beca adds.

(At which, Jesse feels a particular pain, especially because his heart skipped a beat.)

"Hmm," Luke mutters, brushing off Beca's rejection, and focusing on trying to shove an album on an already-crowded shelf.

"Use the Force, Luke," Beca suddenly says.

There is nothing Jesse could have done to stop the snort-chuckle that gets out of him. He covers it up with a fake cough.

"Oh, haha. Just so you two know, a raise is not going to happen," Luke snaps back. He leaves the album sticking out, and heads back to the booth.

"Take care of that," he throws over his shoulder to Jesse, as he walks away.

Jesse makes a move to go over to the other side of the desk, when Beca gets to the album first. "I got it," she tells him. If only to be able to meet his eyes for the first time in a long time.

He purses his lips, nods, resumes his place at the desk. Beca has to tell herself that it's okay, at least she got far enough to slip in a reference there. At least, he notices. She's kidding herself, after all, if she thinks that they'll magically get back to the way they were. Up on her tiptoes, she tries to push the album back in place, and she almost falls backward right before he's next to her again, taking out some of the other albums in the shelf, and replacing the lot of them back.

"Don't hurt yourself," he says, not looking at her as he keeps his eyes on the shelf, placing the albums neatly.

"Thanks."

It comes out like a stupid garble, because Beca doesn't know how to handle the idea that he really is done with her, with how he can't even look at her. So she takes a huge bunch of CDs and heads over to the second floor, where she can properly wipe her eyes on her shirt.

...

_"I can lie to you all my days, but you're the one one... you're the one..."_

Beca skips the mess hall for a tuna sandwich and a sad song. Sitting on a bench near the quad, some of the High Notes have already taken her spot on the grass. She doesn't care. She doesn't feel like sitting on her little plot alone.

_"And I'm a fool for waiting so long to let you know..."_

She doesn't know what time of the afternoon to call it, because she's gotten used to gauging time based on her time with Jesse. The guy is prompt with his thoughtful little invasions of her schedule. Normally, after her Lit class, she would spend time at the quad, and when he'd come around, it would be half-past three. They'd talk, for an hour or so, before he decides that it would be a good idea to sneak into the BU harmonics "rehearsals", or sneak into a random class' movie viewing, or sneak into anywhere the two of them could sneak into, before he chickens out on the way, and they end up talking again.

But now, sitting by her laptop with a dry, crusty sandwich and no company will have to do. But because the aca-gods are sadistic in their sense of humor, she is suddenly sandwiched herself, between two brimming Bellas. Ashley on her left, Jessica on her right. She lowers her headphones.

"Hey guys... What's going—"

"Nothing! Nothing... cookie?"

Jessica is always chipper. But chipper _and_ cookies?

"Thanks," Beca takes one.

"So, what're you listening to?" Ashley interjects.

"Um... let's see... Rosi Golan, T. Swift, Andrew Belle, Simple Minds..."

She monotonously states her playlist, faking oblivion at their sudden concern the moment she mentions Simple Minds. Until she notices Jessica staring at her, again, like her whole face were a soap opera.

"Okay. Something's going on. What is it?" she says, urging them to just spill it.

Jessica and Ashley look to each other, and then back at her.

"Beca..."

"Well... we noticed that, um, this morning..."

"Are you okay?" Jessica places a comforting hand on Beca's shoulder, while Ashley takes her sandwich and replaces it with three more cookies.

"It's okay, Beca."

"Yeah, I mean... don't... feel bad about it."

"Yeah. It's college, there are plenty of other guys who—"

"WHAT?!"

Beca is fighting the urge to close her laptop and walk away, but that's not right. She already learned her lesson yesterday, with her good father pep-talk and the whole Bellas thing and Jes...

Okay, maybe not Jesse. But two out of three ain't bad.

And yes, they know. She told them about The Breakfast Club, that first kiss that didn't happen, Jesse. She told them about Jesse. Well, not really. She didn't need to. She and Jesse have been seen around campus more often than not, it's not difficult to put two and two together. He's obviously her best...

Wait a minute. Shit.

Her eyes fall shut of their own accord, finally getting it.

"Oh my god, you think Jesse and I... broke up."

"Wait, you mean you didn't?" Ashley says.

"No, dude. I mean... we were never..."

The two Bellas beside her look utterly flabbergasted, it's not even funny.

"Oh," Ashley says.

"Yeah."

As Amy would say: aca-awkward.

"So why are you so sad?" Jessica pipes.

Beca opens her mouth and closes it again, not quite sure how to answer that. She had pointedly told Jesse that he wasn't her boyfriend, right? So, really, why is she so affected by this?

"I was a dick to him," Beca replies, going on the safe route, "and I... shouldn't have been. And now, he's not talking to me. God, he can't even look at me, and it's all my fault."

The two Bellas on either side of her fall into silence. Ashley starts munching on the sandwich, and Jessica nibbles on her cookies. The three of them bask in the glorious understanding of Beca's misfortune.

"We have to do something about this," Ashley suddenly starts.

And then, they're gone. Beca hopes that, whatever they're planning, it would be somewhere along the lines of _mild_.

...

Come that evening, Beca is slowly making her way across campus to the auditorium, for Bellas practices. Again.

The finals is less than two weeks away, and they need to harness the power of the moon or something, if they expect to be anywhere near ready by then. The great thing is that all the Bellas know this; they're pumped and talented and motivated, so Beca is banking on these three factors to get them ready. They need to practice.

But not tonight, apparently, as she is suddenly greeted by a dark, silent auditorium.

Why isn't anybody here yet?

"Guys?" She calls out, and gets the surprise of her life when the lights suddenly open and she's assaulted with a godsmacking amount of cleavage in her face. _Oomph_.

She hears the collective "SURPRISE!" that the Bellas shout from behind Amy's triple Ds. And she's suddenly getting squished and hugged and assaulted by Stacie's equally-massive "guns" (Stacie's words) and Lilly's stick figure and Ashley's and Jessica's cookies and Cynthia Rose's bear hug.

"What's going on?" Beca finally gets to say, after she's put down by Cynthia Rose, and she gasps when she spots Aubrey wearing a party hat. "You have a hat. Why do you have a hat?"

"Well," Aubrey says, coming over to her, "We have decided that, since I have passed the pitch pipe on to you, it is only fitting that we celebrate your birthday!"

"It's not my birthday today."

"What, is that supposed to stop us?" Fat Amy says, moving over to the small table with a few choice food products and opening a bottle of Boone's Farm.

The other girls proceed with the festivities, Denise grabbing Beca's laptop to set it up with the speakers, the girls going over to the food stuffs (trying to get past Amy's body blockage of the table), and Beca can't help but smile, genuinely smile, for and because of these nerds.

"Happy birthday, Beca!" She hears, as she is suddenly thrown into the arms of one perky redhead. True to form, Chloe doesn't fail to make the hug borderline inappropriate.

"Whoa, ho-kay... Ouch... boob space, Chloe, boob space... remember what we talked about..."

Chloe finally releases her, to the immense relief of her rack. "And it's not my birthday, seriously," Beca adds with a laugh. "Who's idea was this anyway? You guys are just trying to get out of practice."

"It was my idea," Aubrey says, coming over to Beca with a single cupcake and a lighted candle. "I think that we deserve to celebrate just for the hell of it," Aubrey says, a huge smile lighting up her face as she hands Beca the cupcake.

"It's about time that we start off fresh, and it's all because of you," Aubrey tells Beca. "Also," she adds, "I owe you an apology."

"What? No, you don't have to—"

"Yes, I do. We... I never said you weren't a Bella. And it was wrong of me to insinuate that. You are one of the best singers in this group. You know your music, and... I know that the Bellas are in good hands. And I'm really sorry."

Aubrey finishes with an awkwardly sincere smile.

"That is... um..."

Words escape Beca. She's not used to being apologized to, not with her family, her friends. She has never been put in a position to have to communicate on such an intimate level; it's one of the many reasons that she's not exactly the best when it comes to feelings and all those. She doesn't know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a sincere apology, for her feelings to be taken into account. So when she feels the heat of impending tears behind her eyes, she sort of freaks out.

"Oh my god," she laugh-cries, sniffling a bit. "You didn't have to do this."

Aubrey smiles even brighter. "Oh, don't be silly. You needed it."

"Thank you," Beca replies in a hushed voice, because any louder, and it would break. _She_ would break. And then Aubrey gives her a hug, the first she's ever received from their former captain.

Today wasn't perfect, but it's not bad.

...

"I feel like we're in a funeral," Cynthia Rose comments about the music, a melancholy playlist from Beca's laptop.

"Yeah. I mean, how much Taylor Swift do you have on here?" Amy says.

They are huddled in a circle on the floor, enjoying what's left of the pizza and cupcakes that haven't been desecrated by Amy just yet, listening to Beca's automatic playlist as it suddenly reaches the most recently played songs.

_"And I'll feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe,"_ Taylor Swift croons in the background.

"I feel like that time when I didn't have sex for five days. Seriously, this is depressing," Stacie comments.

"Sorry," Beca replies, laughing a bit as she wipes the icing off her hands, "I didn't have some Jessie J on hand for your party needs."

At the mention of that one name, she feels the sudden hush. She rolls her eyes. "Okay, you guys don't have to act all weird, it's not like it's a big deal."

"Dude," Stacie says, shaking her head and looking dead serious, "you're in denial."

_What._

"What Stacie means to say," Chloe amends, "is that you seem... pretty, um—"

"Depressed," Denise adds.

"Really unhappy," Jessica follows.

"It's like that time, when I was with the chub chubs, and one of them died, mid-performance, you know?" Fat Amy says, "You used to be a grape, but now you're just... a rejected raisin."

Not really being in the mood to push this, Beca resigns with a sigh and a small smile, before Aubrey takes over.

"Well, I, for one, think that we've had enough bonding time and that we need to get to work. We should start choreography tonight, so..." she says, changing the topic as she gets up and expects the rest of the Bellas to follow. Who would've thought that the nicest thing that Aubrey would do for Beca would involve practice? She smiles at Beca, whose gratitude shows through a similar expression.

Despite Fat Amy's protests about pizza and cardio not mixing well together ("Trust me," she says. "I've tried. Not a good combo."), the Bellas use the rest of the night to try to come up with a routine. Not much practice, as they merely try to memorize the new moves. ("We should do a chest shove," Stacie suggests, "kind of like in the old dance, but with more... boob.")

After finishing the first part of their choreo, Simple Minds starts playing.

"Okay," Beca starts, willing herself to be completely unaffected when the first lines come up, "So, Chloe, you take this solo, and why don't we start with, like, a simple V formation, here at center..."

She drones on, but the Bellas have stopped to stare at her.

"...and then we could—oh, come on you guys. Really?" She turns to face them, stopping her explanation short.

"I'm not buying it, Beca," Chloe says, arms crossed. "We need to deal with this."

"What's there to deal with? I screwed up, okay. He's never gonna talk to me again, so there," Beca says, going over to her water. Her bitterness is coming to the surface, and oddly enough, she doesn't feel the need to hide it. Not around these girls anymore. So she sits down, takes a rest, as the other Bellas move over to her side.

"Oh, honey child," Stacie says, "you really don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"Man like that," Cynthia Rose says, "ain't gonna back down that easily."

"Yeah, I mean, you've known him for a year now," Fat Amy says (picking through the remains of dinner), "If he's stuck with you all this time, the man's got enough balls to stick with you through eternity, if you ask me."

Beca doesn't know whether to be insulted or hopeful.

"They're right, you know," Aubrey comments.

"You didn't see the look in his eyes," Beca replies, a sad smile playing on her lips. And if she was hoping that including Simple Minds in their set would somehow placate him, every waking moment of her life devoid of his intrusions just make her doubt herself.

At this, the Bellas collectively frown, because now, now it's serious, and they seem to be at a loss.

"Why don't you talk to him?" Aubrey suddenly says.

"What?"

"Tell him how much you care."

Aubrey's suggestion is quite sensible, really. Last night, Beca had already resolved that she's willing to try to salvage whatever's left of their relationship. But talking to him? About... _feelings_?

"Dude, I can't do that."

"Yea—no, don't make her do that," Fat Amy interjects. "She's gonna explode under the weight of emotions. It'll be months before the janitors clean the remains off the walls."

"I'm on Amy with this," Chloe adds.

Beca can't help but hide a chuckle at how well these girls have come to know her.

"I think you should sing to him," Lilly says in that small voice of hers. The rest of them stop everything, eyes glowing wide at Lilly's brilliance. Of course.

There is no other way. She will make music with her mouth, and she will sing to him.

* * *

**AN: **I once read a fic that posits that Stacie was the one to come up with that one chest shove move during the finals. If you guys recall what it was, please tell me so I can credit that headcanon. :)

And I know ya'll have probably given up on me, but I would still, and forever, appreciate it if I knew someone would continue to read this...? Life is hard, so I am not able to update as often, but I try. And I promise, come the break, I will give you chapters to your heart's content. If y'all still, you know, want me to...

review? But only if you want to. If that's okay...

(I'm sorry. Inspiration is slow.)

Two more chapters, I think...

thanks guys. :)

MUSIC: _Come Around_ - Rosi Golan; _Last Kiss_ - Taylor Swift


	38. 38: Coocoo

"Coocoo! Coocoo!"

Jesse wonders how his life is like, now that he is helping his best friend try to find his lost pigeon. With Benji shouting "Coocoo" every three steps, as though the poor bird would even know it's name, all while wearing his trademark cape and saber, he estimates how long it would be before campus security deems them both not mentally fit to partake in university life.

But what can he do? His buddy needs him.

The ICCAs are the weekend after this, but he doesn't sweat it. They've got their set down, and the last thing he wants is to keep replaying their set in his mind. After all, it was from Beca's mix.

After going though their dorm (thank god their fellow dormers didn't feel the need to call the cops on them), literally looking in the most ridiculous places ("Benj, I highly doubt that Coocoo would roost in the fridge."), it's now time for them to proceed to the quad.

Well, okay then. If he's going to accept his title as nerdorkaholic, he will accept the duties and responsibilities that come with that title.

And then he changes his line of thinking, because Beca had given him that nickname. The one reason why he has forbidden himself to have any spare time, and why he agreed to helping Benji find his pigeon in the first place. Funny, how that works.

They step out into the quad, as he pockets his hands, stifling a wince at Benji's loud calls.

"Coocoo!"

And then, he sees her. By her bench near the quad. He's always thought of that as _her_ bench, because it's nearest her spot. He used to sit there and try to grow enough balls to talk to her, as she lay on the grass with her headphones on...

_Damnit, Swanson. Focus on finding the damned bird._

"Coocoo!"

She seems to be preoccupied by her music, her laptop open and headphones on. _Smiling_. In the _morning_... _Early_ morning...

Error. Does not compute.

But Jesse shakes it off. Of course, she would be happy. Really, what did he expect? While it's nice to know that she's not really as affected as he is by their little fallout (as evidenced by her nonchalant "Aubrey makes me crazy", and her totally chill comments at the station, of course), it's even better to know that, even now, he is competing against music for her affection. And even now, music is winning.

Has won. _Has_. Past tense.

But to his utter preference for the universe _not_ to, Benji spots Beca sitting by the bench, and casually walks towards her. Jesse pockets his hands and finds fascination in any and all things not Beca Mitchell, keeping his eyes preoccupied.

...

Yesterday wasn't bad. Not at all.

Beca listens to a recording of their worked out choreography and smiles as she watches Aubrey showing everyone how it's done, with them opening up the number as Beca's solo pushes through. She really can't help but smile at the thoughtfulness of these girls, and for the first time in her life, she has real relationships with real people who care about her, despite her being... her. And then Simple Minds comes on, and she's listening to the lot of them review the choreo, memorizing the steps herself. She had included a hip movement, for good measure. She hopes Jesse would remember their first—

"Hey Beca."

She looks up and sees Benji, caped and sabered, and lowers her headphones. She also sees Jesse, who still doesn't want to meet her eyes.

(Ouch, okay. So this is what it feels like.)

"Hey, Benji. What's up?"

"Um, would you happen to see a white pigeon anywhere?"

Beca has half a mind to ask him if that was a trick question.

"Why do you ask?"

"I kind of, left our window open last night, and when I woke up, she was gone. I think she might have gone out for a while. It was getting a little stuffy in our room."

"Oh. Um..."

She looks at Jesse, and he looks at her with a pleading face, for Benji.

Wow. He's helping his best friend look for a bird that may or may not have already flown cross-country. This guy really is something. What a dork. (Except, this time, the term is endearing.) She bites back a chuckle from the craziness of these two nerds.

"I don't think so, Benj. But hey, if you want, I can..." she closes her laptop and tucks away her headphones, "I can help you look."

"Really? Thanks, Beca! By the way, happy birthday."

"What?"

"Yesterday was your birthday, right?"

Really? Do rumors go through the aca-rumor mill that fast?

"It wasn't—Um, how did you—"

"Oh, Jessica told me."

At this, she shoots a knowing look at him, to which he replies with an immediate flush, the fluster being automatic.

"I didn't know you guys talk," Beca comments, taking her heavy bags and stuff to walk with them.

"Oh, no. Just sometimes," Benji says sheepishly.

Jesse, on the other hand, is a little confused with how to go about this right now. The moment Beca had offered to search with them, he felt his heart go through a double loop. Even if he doesn't want to, she still has that effect on him.

And now that she's carrying her heavy bags, he has to consistently tell himself not to offer to help her, because she has made it clear that she wants no such thing from him.

...

Going through the quad while Benji shouts "Coocoo" at the top of his lungs, a year ago, Beca would have thought this incredibly insanely stupid and lame and plain old crazy. But right now, she misses these dorks. And hey, at least she can try to make small talk. She misses Jesse.

"Did he... is that the... pigeon's name?" she whispers to him as they fall in step.

"Yup."

She bites her lip in utter amusement. (Jesse peels his eyes away from her lip-biting movement.)

While Benji continues to shout Coocoo, looking around nooks and crannies, Beca feels the eyes of half the student body on them, as she takes pride in realizing that, yes, she is a total weirdo. There are worse things in life than being a total weirdo. At least she's trying to be a good friend. At least, she tells herself, she's not a dick.

Well, not anymore. She's trying, okay?

While Benji attempts to talk to the lunch lady to let him crawl under the tables in the cafeteria, Beca tries to get Jesse to open up a little bit more.

"Did you, like... tell him?" she whispers.

"You tell him," Jesse retorts in true Jesse fashion, not being capable of hurting his friend with the idea that his Coocoo might actually be now off to South America for his annual vacation leave or wherever it is that pigeons go this time of year.

She's still biting back a smile. He notices this, these little things, despite always averting his eyes. His peripheral vision is his primary vision whenever she's next to him.

And then she gets an idea.

"Hey, Benji," she says, taking his shoulders as she tries to pry him away from under the cabinets of the pantry, "have you tried going to the lost and found?"

"No, why would she—of course, Beca! How could I have not thought of that before!"

And with that, Benji rushes out the mess hall, practically jogging towards the administration building, his cape billowing in the wind.

She sees Jesse chuckling beside her, and the crinkling of his eyes is all it takes for her to feel that ache again, of how she misses him so much.

(His resolve is turning to mush whenever she looks at him like that, from the side of his vision, but he remembers how she doesn't care, and it still hurts.)

"You know he's not gonna find it there, right?" he comments.

Beca is about to take this opportunity to be able to speak with him again, when she is interrupted by Stacie and Amy.

"Oi, you, practice is in two minutes," Amy calls out to her as she and Stacie walk on, suddenly regretting the words as soon as she recognizes the figure a few feet to Beca's side, his hands in his pockets and giving her a courteous nod and a smile with pursed lips.

"Um, so... I'll see you," Beca tells him, right before proceeding to awkwardly wrap her fingers around his wrist to give it a squeeze, since his hands are his pockets. And then she's walking away and joining the other two Bellas, who are shaking their heads at her and throwing gestures at him and speaking in hushed tones about god knows what.

He hates himself for feeling weak at the knees because of that one contact.

...

"I need you do me a favor," Beca says to Amy, once they have walked a few meters and have exhausted the topic of why she's not with Jesse right now.

"Yeah? As long as it doesn't involve kangaroos. Those, I can't stand. The pouches freak me out, you know?"

"Totally get you," Stacie replies, pointing her nail file at the other girl.

"What? No, no kangaroos. At least, not... that kind of animal." _Did she just say that?_

"Sweet. What is it?"

"Do you know anyone with access to... one spare pigeon?" _Did she just... ask that?_

(What are these nerds doing to her...)

Fat Amy pauses to think about it really well. Spare pigeons are hard to come by, after all.

"Oh, I know someone! Well, a friend of an ex of my cousin's knows someone from that pet store outside campus," Stacie interjects.

"Great," Beca says, not really sure if 'great' is the right word, "do you think you could, like, get me his contact or something? I wanna do something for a friend."

"I can try."

"Awesome. Who has a car? Also, are you guys free later this afternoon, before practice?"

Stacie and Amy look at each other.

"Oh, you know us."

"We're nothing if not flexible."

Beca has nothing more to add to that.

And it's true that all throughout the year, these nerds have been tugging and pulling at her insides, and it wasn't fair for them that she kept pulling back. She tugged away, but when push comes to shove, loosing them was worse than holding her own.

She doesn't want to hold her own. She wants them to keep pulling. Wants _him _to keep pulling.

But since he's not going to, she'll just have to do it herself.

* * *

**AN:**

I am now consistently churning out lousy chapters. I am sorry, but I literally did not know how to go about this next part. In any case, the rest is all planned out, so um, stick around? Only if that's, like, okay. :)


	39. 39: Bypass Heart Surgery

A ham sandwich is better than eternal happiness.

That's what Beca reasons, having come from her Intro to Philosophy class after having failed it the first time around. Thinking about the fallacy of four terms is actually rather funny, now that she's actually paying attention and not falling into a deep, dark twilight zone of unconsciousness once the lecture starts.

She recalls that one movie... what was it? Something about sunspots... ah, yes. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, one movie that Jesse had told her about that made him cry manly tears. Then again, every single drama he watches probably makes him cry manly tears.

Hell, she reckons that "Jaws" made him cry manly tears. They did get the shark, after all.

And then a weird amount of feelings suddenly hits her and _yikes_.

(She's gonna have to deal with all these feelings later.)

Walking down the corridors, Beca's thoughts about ham sandwiches and sunspots are rudely, and quite aggressively, assaulted by a throaty, low, super-bass man voice.

"Heya, Beca," it said, and she near jumps out of her skin because _Is that you, God?_

"Oh my god!" Beca freaks. (Totally wrong expression). But she sees Chloe coming over to her with her bubbly personality, laughing because she had just changed her voice from _female_ to _hearty black man_.

"Dude, that was freaky!" Beca says, as Chloe wraps an arm around her and they walk on (to the infinitely confused looks of the nearby populace).

"I'm really enjoying this new talent! I feel so... manly, you know?"

"It's the testosterone. It must be."

"Steroids are aca-_awesome_."

The two girls head on out, heading over to the Bellas auditorium for lunch. A year ago, she would never have thought that she would be best friends with the naked redhead that invaded her personal shower space, but it's not a year ago anymore.

...

Surgery is looking more and more appealing to Jesse right now.

He doesn't like this, this constantly being at the mercy of the civil war in his internal organs. It's like fucking Braveheart in there. It's a tug between the part of him that cares, and the part of him that's smart. Simply because he is one of those guys, the ones who sing when there's an applicable line. The guy who foresees the ending to any situation based on templated Hollywood movie scripts. He's the guy who likes endings.

Except this one. Wherein it's not a romcom. He is not Judd Nelson. And there are no after-credits scenes. No shawarma.

Because every time, _every single confounded time_, that she ever gets within an approachable _radius_, his heart does this totally unacceptable thing, wherein he can literally feel it squeeze the living shit out of the air in his lungs. His internal organs are at the mercy of her earspike, and all he wants is to have her back.

But he can't do that. That's not in the script.

And if there's one thing that he knows he should be smart enough for, it's in following the script. She's Summer, and he's in his Autumn. He's not her boyfriend.

And it's not a love story.

They totally have surgery for this kind of thing, right? Because he needs to bypass these stupid Beca Mitchell heart reactions.

So he buries his head in his hands, sitting on the steps inside the Treble house before practice, as the guys get ready. He used to think that giving it time would make it easier. But with each passing moment of numbness, of _ease_, comes the realization that maybe, just maybe, he doesn't want it to be easier. Torn between letting Beca go, and not wanting to, he hears the all-too familiar strains of _that_ mix.

"Who's CD is this?" Uni asks, turning over the blank case of the CD that has been in the player.

"That's... mine," Jesse replies, promptly calmly going over to them, stopping the music, and putting the disk back in its case, to the protests of the others, who were bobbing their heads at the recognizable tune of B.o.B's Magic.

"Hey, come on, man."

He stops. Takes a deep breath.

"You know what? Here, take it," he says, as he roughly shoves it to Uni, who is mildly shocked at his little outburst.

Jesse walks out. He doesn't hear Bumper's protests, doesn't give the douchebag the time to call him out. Exiting the house while Bumper is on the phone, without so much as a by your leave.

...

"What did I tell you?"

He lifts his head up to see Donald, using that same pleading voice that teachers use to stop five-year-olds from eating glue, the same voice he uses for Bumper.

"That shit's not healthy," he adds, sitting beside Jesse as they appreciate the outside view, contemplating life's many complications, as brought by the Bellas. "But noooo, nobody ever listens to me, do they?"

"It's because you're Indian."

The two laugh it off, before Donald reads his mind.

"Look, man, if you're worried you're not gonna get over her—"

"Nah, that's... not it. I'm just... not sure that I want to."

They pause for a while. Loaded statement is _loaded_. And if Jesse had thought that Donald is about to berate him for being such a dumbass with his life choices, he's wrong.

"Then... don't," Donald suddenly says.

_Wait, what?_

"Wha—this from the same guy who told me to? Not three weeks ago?"

"I didn't say that. I told you to get over 'it', being the fact that you guys ain't together. But I never told you to get over her."

There is a brief pause before Donald continues.

"People like that, sometimes, there's just no getting over. So you try to be kind, be a good person, and hopefully, after everything—and after, like, some time—you'll be okay. Takes some work, but you'll be okay."

Donald's words hit Jesse with an impact. A loud, forceful knocking of sense into his brain. He doesn't know if he wants to forget, or if he doesn't. But that's irrelevant. He doesn't need to be her boyfriend. He doesn't need to be her anything, but her friend. And he doesn't need to get over her. What he needs is to forget his chances, and be her friend.

It'll take time, sure. He loves her, after all.

He'll just have to accept that this thing, between him and Beca, does not, and _will never_, exist.

* * *

**AN:**

I'm bracing myself for the possibility of a lot of heat from this chapter.

In any case, this is where Donald's journey ends. If you have any questions, feel free to pm me, and I will give you a baby dissertation of why the Donald in this fic is behaving this way. I'm purposefully leaving it vague, because I love you all. I'm sure ya'll have your ideas. :)

Reviews would be nice. ;)

(And thank you, by the way. Thanks for reading. I am so overwhelmed by the response to this fic, and I hope to give you a nice ending.)

_Up Next: Rub A Dub Dub, Treble men in a tub..._

_Coming soon: The last day at the station..._

Movies: _Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind_ (2004); _Jaws_ (1975); _Braveheart_ (1995); _The Breakfast Club_ (1985); _The Avengers_ (2012); _(500) Days of Summer_ (2009)

Music: _Magic_ - B.o.B.

*EDIT*

Alrighty, then. Donald is in a "similar" situation, with Jesse, wherein they're both in love with a person who doesn't love them back. As to who this person is, well, feel free to take a lovely guess. :) I took my cues from the movie (and deleted scenes), and also from the dimensionality of the characters. If I'll be perfectly honest, in any other universe, I actually ship Donald and Stacie. :)) But not for the canon. I wouldn't know how to go about pairing Donald, one of the more complex (and _sane_) characters, with someone that I can't build on from the movie. But I'm leaving it here. I'd rather it be implied. I left clues all over the past chapters, though. It's always been a headcanon of mine. But I just don't wanna state it, because, you know, _canon first. _:)

So there. More on that in later chapters, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. This is what I mean by possible heat, because I know what I have done is borderline un-canon, unless I justify it with the hidden scenes in my head. Needed someone to give Jesse an understanding push.

So there. Hope that sheds light into Donald's situation. Love you guys. :D


	40. 40: Rub a Dub Dub

_"Lightning strikes inside my chest to keep me up at night..."_

Oh, very funny, John Mayer. Very funny.

_"Dream of ways to make you understand my pain..."_

Beca and Jesse are stacking, peacefully-ish, neither of them being particularly cold, or warm, to the other. It's this delicate ecosystem in the station, like one wrong move, one wrong word or inappropriate gesture, and everything would be thrown off balance. And nobody wants that.

_"Clouds of sulfur in the air, bombs are falling everywhere, it's heartbreak warfare..."_

The ICCAs are this weekend, and it took several working hours for them to get to this fine, perfectly-tempered atmosphere of cordially ignoring each other, talking with words that have been measured like rocket science. They each suffer the effort of tiptoeing around each other.

(Because both Beca and Jesse would rather. Instead of not seeing each other, they would rather.)

So when John Mayer's offensive song comes on (and she could swear that Luke just leaned back with a _fucking grin_ on his face), the weight in the air doubles, and she thanks Aubrey for all the self-control exercises she's learned. She is now able to calmly place a CD on the desk, instead of stabbing that smile, _repeatedly_, off of Luke's expression.

But because Luke is being an asshole lately...

"Hey, Bec, could you get me my lunch this time? And try not to mess it up."

Beca is momentarily distracted from her stacking because _what?_

"Um, sure. What'll you-"

But Luke is already back in the booth, as the "ON AIR" sign lights up almost as soon as the door closes.

Fuck you, Luke. Fuck you.

_"Drop his name, push it in and twist the knife again..."_

This is Luke and John Mayer, two of the biggest assholes in history, working against her. She shakes her head, bites her lip, and lets out a small chuckle at this bastard's clever attempts to get on her nerves (to the tune of the worse possible song for this situation), because he very well knows that she and Jesse aren't talking. And she can't just casually ask Jesse what Luke's order is, now can she?

Whatever. She'll get him the wrong order, and he won't pay her. What's a few dollars, anyway.

_"Watch my face as I pretend to feel no pain, pain, pain..."_

"He likes the cheeseburger special, no pickles, with extra mustard. Extra large Coke, but don't get the double patty one. He's on a diet."

She turns around to see Jesse scribbling the order on his pad and paper, the same one from their second day together. He rips a sheet and hands it to her.

It takes a moment before she comes to her senses and takes it from him.

"Thanks."

And that was the first they've actually talked in a while. She watches him closely, briefly.

_"...No one really ever wins in heartbreak warfare..."_

Jesse goes over to the other side of the table and starts to get some more CDs, blatantly ignoring the way Beca seems to still, right across him. He can feel her eyes on him, but he doesn't so much as look up from his stacking.

His periphery tells him that she seems to swallow, right before heading out. Only then, with her back towards him, does he stop. He allows himself to watch her walk away and an eternity passes before he realizes that he's been staring at nothing but the emptiness she leaves in her wake.

...

Jesse enters the Treble house that day in a mild state of daze, his mind preoccupied continually on his walk, only to remember that today, of all days, is What The Fuck Monday.

And everyone knows that Trebles have their bathtub session on What The Fuck Mondays. It's tradition. And while the Treblemakers are more lenient on tradition than the Bellas, some traditions just kind of... stuck.

It had probably started out with the nursery rhyme, and then proceeded to become what was meant to be punishment, but for some reason, What The Fuck Mondays (with it's bathtub group session) somehow became like AA (Acapella Anonymous). There's just something about being cramped inside a hot jacuzzi with a bunch of other naked men that makes it so... therapeutic.

Jesse opens the door to an unwelcome voice.

"...being brought up to the musical big-leagues!"

Bumper with a gleeful tone. Well, that can't be good.

"What're you talking about?"

"John Mayer just asked me, personally-through an assistant-to sing back-up on his new CD!" Bumper singsongs the see-dee with all the cockiness in the world. "I leave for Los Angeles iiin... a few hours. So, better get goin'."

Jesse cannot do anything but gape at the entire scene.

"But Bumper, what about the ICCAs? They're this weekend."

"Mhmm," Bumper says, making a face that Jesse believes is a registered trademark of AA (Assholes Anonymous). "Sorry buddies, but I won that shit, like, a hundred times so, I'm outta here..."

Jesse had never thought that What The Fuck Mondays could get any more... _what the fuck_-y. But his team is taking a jacuzzi (complete with rubber duckies... with _shades_) when Bumper leaves them for John Mayer and really. By now, he should've already learned not to be surprised. Fucking John Mayer.

"Bumper's a jerk. There, I said it."

"Yeah, well, he's a jerk that we need to replace, pronto dente."

Replace... Of course, Jesse thinks.

...

It's about time that Benji got his shot at the Trebles. Hell, it's about too damn long. Enduring nothing but scorn from Bumper, who went so far as to say, in front of a camera, that Benji needed to "cut his hair and shave his sideburns. He looks like Wolverine's aborted child," Jesse knows that if he needs to do something, he needs to give his slightly-misunderstood friend this chance.

He bursts into his and Benji's room, excited as hell.

"Spot opened up and it's yours if you want it. Just... one condition. Promise me you won't get all weird? We're just a group of guys, singing a bunch of covers of songs, okay. If you get weird, they will definitely not let you stay," Jesse rambles.

"Deal. Although, I don't know what you mean by weird."

Coocoo lands on his shoulders and Benji gets it. It takes a moment for Jesse to realize that Benji is housing a bird in their dorm. The dorm they _share_. Another thing they need to talk about: in-door animal care policy. He doesn't want to repeat what happened with the hedgehogs last time, the poor creatures.

"Oh, hey, you got... Coocoo back," Jesse says, looking at the bird with a wary eye.

"Yeah, isn't it great?" Benji replies, letting the bird perch on his fingers. "He's totally behaved now. I think he went soul-searching the other week."

"Oh," Jesse replies (for lack of a more engaging statement about his friend's pigeon's life accomplishment. Soul-searching pigeon? Check). "Where'd you find him?"

"The lost and found contacted me, after I left them my number," Benji says, as he proceeds to place Coocoo inside his magician's hat.

Huh. Beca must've done this, Jesse realizes. Huh.

"Well, I'm glad you found her... I mean him... wait, what it's, um-"

"He used to be a she, but he came back a boy."

Huh. Pigeon sex-change. Definitely a What The Fuck Monday today.

.:.

* * *

"Amy..."

"What? It's true. They're disproportioned."

Stacie gasps.

"Well, at least I have shape!"

"Round is a shape, you piece of dingo!"

At the Bellas rehearsals, thing get a little heated up, as they have less than one week to perfect their set. What started out as an innocent comment about Stacie's girls (of which she is very protective) turns into a heated debate about the standard of female beauty in today's post-modern society.

In order words: girlfight.

"Alright, you guys. Break it up, break it up," Beca says exasperatedly, as she tries to peel the two of them away from each other before someone loses a boob. "Listen. to. me, the two of you. We still have to finish eight eights of choreography, and the ICCAs are less than a few weeks awa-"

"Days away," Lilly corrects her.

"Five days, to be exact," Chloe offers.

_What?! Five days?!_

"What?!" They have five days to perfect their shit, and they haven't even completed it. She needs to step up her game. What has she been doing?! They need to be working.

...

(An hour later...)

"I don't give a flying fuck if you're tired right now! We have eight eights of choreography to go, and we're going to be disqualified if we don't-"

"Beca-"

"What!?"

Her snarl catches everyone off guard, including herself.

"I'm sorry," Beca ammends, as Aubrey approaches her, "I'm sorry, it's just the stress. You guys..."

They take a break, everyone exhausted from their own personal problems. The funny thing with being closer to each other is that fights break out more often than before. But it's resolved just as easily. Whenever something problematic would come up, they would sit in a circle or simply gather round, as opposed to when they would be in a cluttered bunch, listening to Aubrey dictate.

But Aubrey isn't a dictator anymore, as she now approaches Beca with water and a kind, knowing smile.

Beca has never appreciated what Aubrey has been doing for the last year. Leading a bunch of grown women to sing and dance in perfect harmony is _hard_. Like, _this-shit-is-going-to-give-me-cancer_ kind of hard. She takes the bottle from Aubrey and returns the smile. That same, knowing smile between the two of them, that means so much more than just being glad for each other.

It's a mutual understanding of what the two of them have been through. Of the tried and failed method of cold fear. They were so alike. One was was just as afraid to try as the other, both of them paralyzed. Not anymore, though.

Aubrey has let go, and has given Beca free reign. But Beca can't do shit if the Bellas keep on getting into random arguments about the merits of wrestling with different animals, or the best Zippy's burrito, or about Baloney Barb's massive pair of... vocal chords.

"I don't even know... do you guys want this?" Beca asks them. It's not a trick or motivational question. It's a legitimate question. _Do they want this?_

The Bellas fall silent. Beca pulled out the big guns, which is completely within her right to do so, after all.

"Of course!" Aubrey say plainly. "But that doesn't mean that we need to _win_."

She pauses, takes a deep breath as she preaches to herself more than anyone else. "It's not about the winning, Beca. It's about the process of getting there. I mean, look, you're learning how to handle us, right? Last week, you pulled Lilly out of the... what was that?"

"Air conditioning," Cynthia Rose offers.

"It was one time," Lilly counters.

"There," Aubrey says, gesturing to make a point, as she sighs and places an arm around a dejected Beca, trying to losen her up a bit. "Don't be too hard on yourself."

If she weren't so damn emotional right now (yes, okay, she gets that a lot nowadays), she'd puke at how this moment totally deserves some cheesy violin music in the background.

"Yeah, and I'm sorry I called your boobs disproportionate," Amy addresses Stacie, almost teary-eyed. "They're actually really balanced. There's really good harmony there, you know? You could really," she gestures with her hands, "model it for china bowls."

"Aw, Amy!" Stacie is so touched, she could cry a waterfall. Cynthia Rose nods in agreement. Stacie's are a _damn fine_ pair.

"It's just that, I've been feeling a bit down lately," Amy adds. "I sort of... broke it with Bumper the other day."

The Bellas hush.

("Whoops, there it is," Cynthia Rose whispers.)

"Amy, that's... um..." Wonderful? Horrible? Beca isn't sure what adjective to use, and whether to say _I'm sorry_ or _Congratulations, Good For You! _

"Yea, I know what you're all thinking..."

They're all thinking it's about time...

"How on earth could I let that prime man-meat go so easily? I woke up this morning, and I could taste the salt from my tears. And I have really bad kidneys, I can't have this sodium in my diet. It's all wrong. You know?"

No, they don't. But they nod anyway.

"So yeah. And then he told me he was going to LA, and I said 'Phhfff, fine, be that way' and he called me a dumb bitch-"

"What?" "That sonuva-"

"-then I told him that he's never really loved anyone before and that he's just scared and... he probably wasn't loved enough as a child, because he was adopted, which is why he tries to compensate by being mean to other people."

Ah, yes. Rehashing childhood trauma is always a nice comeback.

"Remind me to never break up with you," Beca jokes.

And then they're back to practicing, even though it's pretty late at night, and they're all tired. When it's all done, and everyone has pretty much given up on the last eight eights of the their set (because, as much as they would love to "give it everything tonight", they're all really exhausted), Chloe finally speaks up.

"I think we should just wing it," Chloe suddenly says, bottle of water halfway to her lips. "Let's just have fun, forget about the choreo."

"I think that's a great idea," Beca says, though that's probably because it's the first thing that popped in her mind, and she's too tired to filter anything out her mouth.

"That's probably the greatest idea we've had so far," Ashley says, "well, you know, after Lilly."

Ashley is referring to Lilly's unbelievable skill set that night at the pool; when she had said she had "something" that could help her team out, she was actually referring to her unbelievable beat-boxing capabilities (and some really heavy tequila, to celebrate. But that is irrelevant). Now that Lilly has taken over Ashley's previous role as percussionist, they're all pretty shocked that she could really make some beats.

"Yeah," Beca agrees with Ashley, "Donald would be proud of you, Lil."

"What's Donald have to do with anything?" Aubrey asks, dabbing away at the sweat on her temples.

"Oh, didn't you-"

"Didn't I what?"

Beca is certainly surprised that Aubrey doesn't know.

"Donald taught me how to beatbox," Lilly says. At which, Aubrey near chokes on her water, before she graciously pulls back.

"Oh," she says, nodding and trying to seem unaffected. "I... did not know that."

Beca estimates that Aubrey probably has something to say about all this fraternizing with the enemy that has been revealed today. The old Bellas would have had none of that shit. But she's glad her former captain really is trying to be more tolerant of the Treblemakers.

The Bellas are as ready as they'll ever be, thanks to one Treblemaker who had been kind, and another who had been hurt. It's funny how shit happens, and you can't do anything about it. But it's true, what they say about clouds with silver linings, Beca thinks to herself. She's a lucky girl.

She prays to the aca-gods that her luck would be enough to get through to him come the finals.

* * *

**AN:** Two chapters to go...

(Im sorry for dragging Donald out okay, I really am. I didn't mean to. Focus would be back on these two nerds from here on out.)

(ps. Please don't expect much from the finals. I understand that everyone is excited, but thanks for reading anyways. As always, would love to hear your words, because I can only run on so much inspiration.)

(and thank you for the kind words. bless yo faces.)

(no really. I love you, awesome nerds.)

:)

_Next up: Music for the Independent Mind..._

Music: _Heartbreak Warfare_ - John Mayer


	41. 41: Music for the Independent Mind

It was never supposed to be easy. As according to The Laws of Romance established judiciously by his movie-absorbent brain, it was supposed to be like this: he was going to fall in love with her, and she was going to fall in love with him, after he had gone through the fiery obstacles of love to prove that he was worthy.

He went through that. Three times.

The first was when he had tried to kiss her, which, to his credit, wasn't really his fault, anyway. It was Judd's fault. Stupid, cheesy soundtracks. They always get the best of him. Her response should have been enough to deter him, but by the grace of all things Romantic, it's either she didn't want him to, or he was just that stupid.

(After much deliberation, he decides that _he was just that stupid._)

The second was when when he stayed behind from his team, just to wait up for her and make sure that she would be safe, and that her father would be able to pick her up. And then that blows up all over his face as she suddenly goes ballistic over the fact that he had to call a responsible adult to bail her out. Still, he can take that.

(And since when did that "boyfriend" issue come up, anyway? _Where the hell did that come from?_)

The third was nothing he deserved.

He doesn't remember much of what he did after her outburst, he can barely recall his own performance; all that he can recall is that she had lashed out on him, and had told him to back off, after all he did was try to come to her honest defense. It wasn't even about her; he was talking to Aubrey, for godssakes. He doesn't want people thinking they're together when they're not.

"_Jesus christ, that's perfect, of course you're here right now! I don't need your help, okay? Could you back off!_"

In hindsight, he now understands why that moment is kinda blurry:

That fucking hurt.

To have your best friend, the person that you genuinely care about, tell you how you are completely not needed in their life...

And it wasn't even an innocent, heat-of-the-moment triviality. She didn't just accidentally throw a Bellas heel at him. It's not like accidentally stepping on his foot because Aubrey pushed her. She didn't say "I hate you".

What she said was "I don't need you".

Let's not forget that this is the second time she said that, so it must be true. She must really, _really_ not need him, for her to say that. Twice.

So when she drops Star Wars references, or when she gets Benji a new pigeon, these are the thoughts that Jesse busies himself with. It's not cool to think about how different she is, how much she seems to be acting all... un-Beca. Because that train of thought is just going to choo-choo right on down into Feels Avenue, passing by a million warning signs of Danger: Heartbreak Ahead, and ending up, finally, at I Don't Need You City, where all the broken-hearted idiots like him have come to slum.

(But there are moments, desperate fleeting moments, wherein he could not care less about where the train will take him.)

(Moments when he would accidentally brush glances with her, and would glimpse a sadness in her eyes that he had never seen before. It's there. And it physically hurts that he can't just ask her what's wrong, or try to make her smile, because he knows that she doesn't want his help.)

(Moments when he would hear her voice. The voice that reeled him in with that first cup song on the floor of the stage, when she had gone to the auditions, as he had asked her to. But when she talks to him now, her voice isn't the resolute trademark of her strong personality. It's almost always barely a whisper, small, drained of the sarcasm it used to hold. Drained of her.)

(Moments when she would touch his skin, and the pulse is electrifying, and he just wants to pull her close. But he cannot. Because he's not her boyfriend.)

And he doesn't have to be.

He finally gets that now.

Letting go isn't a big moment altogether. He wants them to be friends. He can take it, it'll get better. And maybe, if the wind blows in a kind direction, and after a suitable amount of time, he'll actually get over her.

The first step towards recovery is admitting you have a problem, right?

And it's not like ignoring Beca is going to do any good, he tells himself. Entering the station from the back entrance, it's the last day of work before they ship off to Lincoln Center. Unlike a few weeks ago, when he literally could not be around her and had given up on the station, he's decided that today... Today will be different.

Today, he will talk to her. Maybe try to make her laugh. Maybe even slip in a joke, ask her how her movies are doing. Today, they'll work, and he'll try his best not to make it half as awkward as it had been for the last weeks. Today, he will look her in the eyes, no matter how much his heart burns and his chest hurts from the immense blue of the eyes that will never see him the way he sees her.

Today, he wills himself, is the start of forgetting.

There are more important things in life than Beca. Things like work, friends, school, the Treblemakers, the Finals. There are so many, many things that are more important than her. This is what he tells himself as he pads silently into the station, as he makes up for the shift he missed when he helped his friend find a lost pigeon.

But as the universe would have it, he is greeted by that voice that threw him down this path so many months ago.

_"It's been a long week, and all the lines come down heavy on me..."_

Her voice from the upper floor freezes his movements.

...

Beca goes to work on her regular shift, the single shift she has that doesn't match his schedule. And yet, she recalls, more often than not, she would find him at the station on Saturday afternoons, with a tale about how, sometime during the week, he wasn't able to go to his own regular shift, because Benji had forgotten his hedgehog, or because his professor didn't show up at the lab again, or because he just missed her. But no longer.

"_It's been a long week, I'm finally feeling like it's okay to break..._"

So she sings her heart out, headphones on, because here, in the little peace of her station, nobody is around to see her in her real self. The one that's hurt and guarded and cowardly. The girl who loved and lost.

"..._into a thousand pieces, no one can replace. Only I can find my way..._"

...

He's sure he's not meant to be here right now.

That is not the voice of someone who is singing for a crowd. That is a voice of a quiet lullaby, a whisper barely held together by the melody, breaking every few syllables, and he's sure he was never meant to hear this.

He's not sure he wants to.

Because he can barely take her as she is right now. But when her voice sounds like _that_...

"_It's been a long day, and I just wanna hide away_."

...

Mindlessly stacking, she sees a Beatles album, and she cannot reach the shelves.

...

He takes a crate and proceeds upstairs, listening carefully for her voice, for her movements, her breathing...

...

Celine Dion, The Beatles, The Corrs, and all the other albums that she cannot place in their proper places are neatly stacked off to the side, rejects from her inability to reach the shelves, and just waiting for Jesse to put them in place, if he would. If he would still do that for her. But she knows that sometime between that Kansas song and everything else, she must've worn him out. Just like he did her, only in a completely different manner.

And she needs to pause, because it fucking hurts.

So she lets it out through her voice. Since Jesse isn't around, music will have to do for now.

...

"_It's been a long year, and everyone around me's disappeared_..."

He can hear her continue stacking, with that same, unnamable tone in her voice. The one that he wishes weren't there. She doesn't hurt the quietness of the station, she doesn't seem to want to.

And as much as he is dying from hearing her like this, as much as he wants to ask her what's wrong, or what she's going through, if it's her parents or the Bellas, or if it's something else, as much as he wants to bring her into his arms, or as much as he wants to take her mind off of whatever it is that's gotten her like this, he files all those thoughts away under Things That Should Never Be.

...

_"It's been a long year, and all this mess around me finally clear..."_

She turns to stack, her voice soft, quiet, strained with everything that she cannot take back.

_"So can I have a moment, just to say hello. Can't you let you anger go—_"

Her voice croaks to a weak stop the moment she turns around, and Jesse is there. Suddenly self-conscious and completely vulnerable, she puts her headphones down and manages a weak smile.

...

He doesn't like it one bit.

That is not the smile he knows from her. However hard it is to restrain himself, he realizes that it was never meant to be easy.

(It was also never meant to be this fucking hard.)

.:.

* * *

"So... what's with you and Star Wars?"

Jesse's voice throws Beca off-balance, in every sense of the word. Stacking now on the ground floor, she's not sure how to answer the completely out-of-the-blue conversation that he's trying to initiate, and she doesn't want to fuck this up more than she already has.

"What?"

"Star Wars. Since when?" He asks her, propping himself up on the seamen-smeared desk on the ground floor, trying to meet her eyes with kindness, and hoping that he doesn't come across as trying too hard.

She glances briefly at him, and his eyes are warm, friendly, but just that.

"Spring break," she answers. "It was great," she adds, smiling to herself. (But not meeting his eyes, because she can't. The movie was amazing, even if she can't bring herself to tell him that. She can't bring herself to tell him a lot of things.)

He watches her stack, but only out of the corner of her eyes, with every nerve poised to understand her, with his ears straining to catch whatever it is that's wrong. Every fiber of his being is still on overdrive, trying to understand this woman, because even if he's quit her, the essence of who he is depends on his persistence. He may not be her boyfriend, but as her friend, there is still that need to care about her.

"You were right," she says, going back to the desk, "it, um, it had a really good ending."

"Of course it would. How could you ever doubt me?"

She smiles at him, and for a moment, he is lost in oblivion.

That smile. That deathly intoxicating smile that he worked for. The one that he had lived and breathed for, should not be a welcome expression from her. God forbid if he regresses now, after everything, and after all the progress he's made, he finds that he would still battle armageddon in a heartbeat, just for that smile. And it's a terrifying, terrifying thought.

...

He looks at her, and for a moment, she is lost in oblivion.

That look. That same one that had her smiling in spite of the world, drawing her to him in such a secret way that she never really saw coming. This is the expression that broke her down, the one that had had her running away. It was this pair of eyes, right now, that had her heart beating impossibly fast, eventually having it cave in on itself. His were the eyes that brought her cold fear, because the thought of falling for this weirdo was kind of overwhelming. It still is. But she's not afraid anymore.

So when his expression is replaced by hurt as he looks away, she knows she has to salvage something, anything, between the two of them right now.

It took her a year to get to this point. A year of pushing him away. But if there's anything she's learned, it's that fear can only get you so far. She learned the hard way, and she hopes that the universe gets that. She's learned, and she hopes that she passed the test, even if only within a hairsbreadth. She's learned, but _oh god_, she hopes that Jesse hasn't. Because if he's learned his lesson with her, then this is one lesson that she will never forgive the universe for. And she will never forgive herself.

"Jesse—"

"Hey, Becky—sorry—Beca, get me lunch?" Luke says, popping out of the booth.

* * *

**AN:** I'm cutting this off, right here, for reasons.

Music: _Been A Long Day_ - Rosi Golan

For _PitchPerf, _my good friend. Who has, countless times, caused me to write a chapter, and who keeps on encouraging me. I don't wanna be sappy, but I love you. :)

This is supposed to be posted next week, but I figured, what the hey.

Finals will, I hope, be up soon. Maybe. I dunno... still trying to make it, you know, _nice-ish. _After this, I can work on my other baby, my AU. Which, I have not abandoned. Just so ya'll know.

(Someday, I will go back on these chapters. In the meantime, I hope ya'll semi-like it enough.)


	42. 42: The Finals

Here's the truth: Jesse doesn't know how to tie a necktie.

Not properly, at least. If Bumper were here, he guesses that all the Treble Ties would be under strict quality control management. But because being an embarrassment to manliness is not on his list of things to accomplish in New York, he lets it be. Benji and Unicycle don't have socially-acceptable necktie knots, either. At least, he's not the only one. That's one consolation (on the infinite list of consolations that he tells himself).

Standing backstage in Lincoln Center is not the momentous, life-changing event he had expected it to be. Sure, the air smells like the fervent nagging of competition and he swears he can hear the fucking _drive to win_ from every corner of this hallowed infrastructure. Everything, from the security guards to the other acapella groups (who are _intense_, by the way), to the shrill sound of vocal warm-ups, everything is fine tuned to the swell of competition. Still. He's not really impressed.

(Because there are some things in life that, once you experience them, take away a little bit of everything else.)

As the first strains of The Final Countdown is heard, the Trebles make their way to the wings of the stage.

"Where's Benji?" Donald asks.

...

Running down the length of backstage, Benji makes a run for the west wing, turning a sharp corner.

And bumping into Beca.

"Whoa, dude," she says, being knocked off balance.

"Oh my god! Are you... sorry!"

"Am I what?" Beca laughs. Nerds are so easily discombobulated.

"I mean, I'm so sorry! Are you okay, Beca? I'm so—"

"Calm down, Benji. I'm fine," she says, brushing off his confused and terrified look. But her eyes dart to his necktie, and she chuckles, shaking her head. Damned nerds. Can't even tie their own neckties.

"Dude," she says, as she reaches for the loose loop around him and properly straightens it and fits it, biting back a giggle at Benji's flustered face. "Can't have you going to your debut in this monstrosity," she adds with a kindness that Benji has seldom seen on her (it suits her).

"Thanks, Beca." Benji's face is brimming, but she can tell that he's nervous as hell.

"Don't sweat it, you'll be great," she says, before he darts off again. But not before opening his mouth to say something, and closing it before he actually does.

He was going to tell her that Jesse was lucky to have her, but he realizes that Jesse doesn't. And it makes him sad for his two friends. He doesn't know what happened between them, but beneath Beca's quietness, he could sense a little nervousness there, too.

...

_"Hey, Becky—sorry—Beca, get me lunch?"_

_She sees Jesse's jaw tense. He would have probably broken something (along the lines of Luke's nose), had she not given him a really fast, really sneaky side smile, as if to say Yes, Luke is an asshole. Don't worry. We both know._

_"Yeah, okay," she replies, as Luke heads back inside the booth._

_Who would have thought that Luke's lunch order would change Jesse's life._

...

As the University of Virginia's Hullabahoos belt out The Final Countdown, Jesse feels a little different...

The feel of the few moments before being on stage, as far back as he can remember it, is like the overwhelming ammonia of raw fear. Strong, overpowering, it was sheer terror that made him invincible once he steps onto that platform, and the spotlight welcomes him. His is the moment that the previous moments of terrifying pressure had built on.

But that was before Beca.

There are some things in life that, once you experience them, take away a little bit of everything else. Beca Mitchell is not one of these things; she is all of them, combined into one convenient complication, the bane of his world and the love of his life, two sides of the coin of his fucking existence. The puzzle he will never complete, and he adored her, with a past tense.

Which means now, he can barely care.

Standing in the wings, watching the Hullaba—what now, he doesn't even know. But he's not nervous, and it's a little strange. How silly is that?

...

_The silly thing about romcoms is that they never really tell the whole story._

_Like, how there's always this one between the two, who has to be won over. She knows this from John Cusack. John Cusack taught her that people like her will always find reasons to push people like Jesse away. She did that for the whole year, after all. And Jesse is the kind of guy who holds boomboxes outside windows, and she's the kind of girl who tosses and turns, but doesn't acknowledge that there's a guy outside who's arms are getting tired from holding up a goddamned boombox._

_So she returns with Luke's lunch, and to Jesse's smile._

_(That small, tired smile that she knows she doesn't deserve.)_

_"Did you get him—"_

_"His regular? Nope," she replies, as they stack side by side. She feels him chuckle fifteen inches from her, and it feels like fifteen miles. She can't take it._

_"Jesse..." she starts again. His name feels weird in her mouth, without any insult, or malice. Without a ready quip. She knows, he can tell, but he doesn't say anything, merely waits for her to continue. Forever waiting for her. And she's waiting for herself to get the right amount of guts to actually... say anything._

...

The Hullabahoos end with a final note to punctuate the energy-driven air backstage.

"Alright guys, this is it. It's game time," Donald says to the huddle of Trebles before him. "Let's put on a show. And remember..."

He directs his next words to Jesse.

"...Let her do her thing."

Which is an awefully _weird_ thing to pep-talk about pre-performance, especially because the rest of the Trebles have no clue as to who "she" is. But before anyone can protest, the hands are in, and the swag is on.

"One, two, three... Swag!"

The rest of the Trebles take their formation to get ready for their entrance, Jesse left to his own thoughts. He doesn't get ten seconds to internalize Donald's words before a small voice from behind him...

"Hey."

He turns around, slowly, tentatively, because everything about her is plagued with a ridiculous uncertainty.

...

_"I, um..."_

_She doesn't know what to say. Literally, doesn't know what to say._

_She doesn't know how to communicate it, but she knows how it feels. It feels like her entire being is weirdly attached to him, like he's permanently intruded in her life. It feels like missing him even when he's around. It feels like the emptiness between them, right now, stacking beside each other. It's the feeling of missing him so much, too much, because he's missing from her._

_Now, to put that into words..._

_"I like... your movies."_

_Which wasn't even _remotely_ what she intended to say, but she tries to meet his eyes, and they soften, for a moment._

_A single, brief moment._

...

"Hey," he replies.

"Good luck."

There is a brief moment that exists, between the first and second pumping of his heart, when he lays eyes on her.

(That brief moment contains everything that he has ever wanted to tell her, but never did.)

"Thanks. You too."

The smallness of her, how the distance between them is so painfully _there_, everything about this is all so wrong, that he feels his heart wreaking havoc in his chest, speeding up to the tempo that he is probably gonna have to match, in a while. The heart that used to only beat for her, and now that she seems so _gone_, it starts beating wildly again.

And then, he's nervous (_finally, normally_), poised to give this performance his all.

(Because she's Beca Mitchell, and she has that effect on him.)

He turns around, faces the stage, but he doesn't look back to see if her eyes are still on him. They don't have to be.

...

_"I like your... movies."_

_"Really? Wow. This is... some kind of historical moment, isn't it?" He jests with words that she knows aren't completely sincere, as he moves towards the desk for more CDs._

_"So, does that mean you'll be watching Star Wars reruns with Luke now?" he adds._

_That was supposed to be a joke. One, gigantic, funny joke between the two of them, of how their relationship has progressed through the last months, and how, of all things, she just might end up with Luke after all. It's supposed to be hilarious. Supposed to be._

_(But it's not. Not for him, anyway.)_

_And he's waiting for a sign. Of how she would react. Of clarity to the blur that she always is. Instead of getting one, he feels a pinch of hurt when, out of nowhere, she suddenly smiles._

_The ghost of a laugh barely making it through, she smiles. Fucking _smiles_._

_Why is that?_

_Then she looks up at him and her eyes are sparkling and she's biting her lip with that smirk (god, that smirk), like she knows something that he doesn't, and he forgets what it was that he said in the first place. He's not supposed to fall all over her again and again everytime her eyes light up, but he decides to let this one slide. Baby steps, he tells himself._

...

So he whips out onto the stage, eyes front and into the heat of the moment and the rest of his life without her.

...

Beca watches him go, as the perfect harmony of Cee Lo's song is washed over with blue and purple lights while The Barden University Treblemakers take their places on stage, Jesse's effortless charm pulling the panties from underneath all the girls skirts. And let's not forget that (_goddamned lucky_) mic stand.

_"I've been living for the weekend, but no, not anymore. Cause here comes the familiar feeling, that Friday's famous for."_

She watches him harness music the way he always has, and she is brought back to Kelly Clarkson and the impossible heights of his voice when she watched him from the wings of that small stage, so many months ago.

_"I've been looking some action, and it's out there somewhere. You can feel this electricity, all in the evening air..."_

She watches him sing.

And she's wringing her microphone as he's soaking the air with _ridiculously_ _sexy_ moves (seriously, _damn son_.) that she had traded for LA, once upon a time. He's dancing with the mic stand and engaging the audience and fucking _playing_ with the set with his necktie hanging carelessly over his unbuttoned collar and she cannot believe, not even in the slightest, what in _god's name_ she was thinking all those months.

The Bellas join her in watching their opponents stride into a powerful performance. At least, she doesn't have to watch him alone.

...

_"So, does that mean you'll be watching Star Wars reruns with Luke now?"_

_That one question hits Beca like an unexpected burrito._

_One day, she thinks she knows herself. And then the next day, something... clicks._

_It's the click of the universe, telling her what has been going on, all this time. It's the explanation of why she punched that Tonehanger, and what that small voice has been telling her about Jesse for so long. It's why she became his Valentine, and why she told him not to talk. It's that stupid girlfriend comment, and it's what she's been afraid of._

_It was _this_, all along._

_But the realization is too much, and it makes her smile._

_(She cannot believe how entirely "right" Stacie was; she was _so_ in denial. That shit wasn't healthy.)_

...

In fact, the Bellas are right about a lot of things. Come to think of it.

_"Bright lights and bigger city, it belongs to us tonight... Ah..."_

The tune drops a key, and out comes the pigeon-caring, magician friend of hers. There's a lingering pause in the air, when she sees Jesse give his best friend a nod, and let's him have the stage...

To the tune of one of the songs on her mix.

She has to tell herself not to laugh.

Because of all things that could possibly happen in the finals, she has drowned her brain in thoughts of failure and rejection. The image of Jesse walking away is seared into her mind, even before it happens, because she's a pessimist like that. The Finals is terrifying not because it's the Finals, but because of him and what he would possibly do (or _not_ do/feel). So when she hears Benji take the stage, his voice ringing true through the melody and causing girls (actual _females_) to start fangirling, she never expected this.

Well, would you look at that. At least Benji has his happy ending.

(And the song from her mix is a pleasant surprise as well, but then... BAM.)

In a sudden explosion of rythm and perfect harmony, Donald practically jumps out onto the spotlight, in his signature hair and signature swag, and the girls go absolutely bonkers.

_"These tricks that I'll attempt will blow your mind..."_

With a flurry of fantastic footwork, Donald, Benji, and Jesse start "magically" freezing the Trebles, one by one, and she can't help it. Such dorky, brilliant choreography could have only come from the three of them, the nerds. All while singing perfect harmony and with the facial expressions to match, to the screamning background of the auditorium's female demographic.

And goddamnit, she is so frikkin _proud_ to be their archnemesis right now.

_"I've got the magic in me!"_

The Trebles end with a performance worthy of their lyrics.

...

The announcer starts introducing them as Beca turns around to face her Bellas. _Her_ Bellas. She's proud of that. And they're all jittery and nervous, but she isn't. Whatever happens tonight, the knowledge that she has her Bellas is still something to hold onto.

"I love you, awesome nerds," she says.

She does. She really does.

"Yeah, you guys are the best," Fat Amy says, on the brink of tears. "Even though some of you are pretty thin, I think that you all have fat hearts, and that's what matters."

The rest of the group are all pretty damn emotional at that. But Fat Amy isn't done.

"I'd do anything for you guys... Except for running, jogging, or, um, climbing stairs... but anything else, I'm like there for you, dudes. And I just wanna say I love you guys more than puppies and sea(Beca needs to pull Amy's mic away to avoid an awkward broadcast)-seafood."

"And... no matter what happens, we're all winners. And we have good hair. And we got bikini waxes and that's gonna last at least six to eight weeks so we, we still have that, even if we don't walk away with a trophy. Except Stacie."

(Because Stacie has a Brazilian.)

Was this a weird, pre-performance peptalk? Yes. Very much.

"'Kay, ley's just smash this!" Fat Amy smiles.

Alrighty, then, Beca thinks. Here goes nothing.

(_Here goes everything_.)

...

One thing that they don't tell you about performance is that it takes a lot of carbohydrates.

Which is why Jesse could feel the faint strains of pounding in his head upond descending the stage. He hasn't exactly eaten much in the last days, and he can't really count on two bananas and a juice pouch to deliver the kind of swaggery like he just did.

And he _did_ deliver, by the way.

He was so in his game, he's sure they must have it in the bag. And he could not have been more proud of his team at that moment. They closed it strong.

He takes a seat, and as the Bellas are being called out on stage, he has to wonder how they would do.

He hopes they do well.

(Even if it hurts to see her.)

There are rumors that they're planning something big to take the title from the Treblemakers. And if anything, it would seem as though they're different today. Going onto the stage in a different formation, with different clothes...

Wait, is that... _Beca? With the pitch pipe?_

Huh.

_"One, two, three, four..."_

Beca counts down, and all at once, the female voices of perfect harmony start singing Jesse J's Price Tag. It stings a litte, he must admit, because he recalls a time in his life when Beca didn't know about that song. Hell, he introduced that song to her. Oh, well. It's not like he didn't do the same thing, taking a song from her mix.

(To be fair, Bumper and Donald had chosen the set, not him...)

_"We're paying with love tonight..."_

There's a lingering pause in the air, before the entire place is assaulted when somebody (is that even... what is that? Are the Bellas taking in male members now?) drops the bass _down low_.

(And shit, is that Lilly? _Creepy Lilly_?)

_"It's not about the money, money, money... We don't need your money, money, money..."_

Oh, wow. The Bellas. Just... wow.

They didn't just step up their game. They're raising the whole bar. Here they are, ten beautiful ladies, dancing, swinging their hips, the purple lights of the stage and a deep baritone that he _swears_ can't possibly be female, wrapped in the cocoon of a very distinct style. But of course.

The audience around him are wild with enthusiasm, but all he can do is watch that one girl, in the last line. All he can do is strain his ears for the sound of her voice above eveyrone else's. On top of his slight headache, no less. And he shouldn't be so wrapped up in her "oh, whoa-oh"s. He has to, for a moment, cater to the pounding in his head, resting it on his hand.

(Because, again, it _hurts_.)

And then, he hears it.

He doesn't recognize it at first. At first, it sounds like once upon a time, to him, like a vague melody he must have dreamt of...

But he knows that voice. He could hear a million different names, a million different sounds in his lifetime, but when it's all over, the sound that's going to stick with him, is the sound of that voice.

The voice that's singing the soundtrack of his life, apparently.

_"Won't you, come see about me. I'll be alone, dancing you know it baby..."_

What.

He lifts his eyes up to see the one and only Beca Mitchell, center stage, and his brain fries itself.

_"Tell me, your troubles and doubts, giving me everything, inside and out..."_

The audience is wild, but Jesse, Jesse doesn't know what to do anymore.

Well, shit.

_"Don't you (you're amazing) Forget about me (just the way you are)..."_

An estimation of about 300% of Jesse Swanson has, right there and then, regressed into his previous predicament of being head over heels for this woman. The Breakfast Club song, the perfect ending to any movie, is being sung by Beca. That statement in itself is enough for him to question the validity of whatever the shit is happening here...

But the audience is screaming, and he's looking around at them. They can hear it too.

_My god._

Then the Bellas are forming a line formation. (A line straight to his heart.)

_"As you walk on by, will you call my name..."_

He blanks out because...

...

_"So, does that mean you'll be watching Star Wars reruns with Luke now?"_

_That comment, he supposes, is meant to be a little mean, with a touch of bitterness. So when she pauses and bites back a smile, turns to him, breaks him apart and puts him back together with those eyes, he wants nothing more._

_"He doesn't even know my name," she says, her eyes aglow._

...

There are moments that are meant to never be equaled in a lifetime.

(This is one of those.)

And then she's breaking formation, and she's taking center. There, on stage, and here, in the middle of his frantically-beating heart.

...

_"I didn't tell him my name for an entire year," she adds, smiling to herself and shaking her head in that small way._

...

In the same, small way that she's singing to him, right now, because she's telling him something, like everything that has ever passed unspoken between them. It's a plea, a quiet question, the two of them all alone between three eights in a Simple Minds song.

_"As you walk on by, will you call my name..."_

Everything stops.

Her eyes meet his, and everything loses meaning. This is what it must feel like, when you're seconds away from death, and your life flashes before you.

Only, it's the complete opposite.

His life, the rest of his life, is in front of his eyes. Singing to him. From Luke that first day at the station, up to this moment, there exists a small, unspoken whisper between them. There is a reason why the station manager kept calling her Becky. A reason why she punched that guy straight, why she went to jail for him, why she gave him her mix. The reason that they never talk about. She's telling him that she wants him to know her name, call her name, because now, now she knows. She knows what _this_ is. _This_ is that reason.

This is her, asking him if he knows that.

This is her, asking in the only way she knows how.

And this is him, completely and utterly taken. She may have been blurry all throughout the year, but now, it's all so clear. And it makes his eyes sweat. But he. does. not. care. Because, yes.

He will call her name. With a birdcalll, on a sticky note, whispered, sung, and screamed. In the middle of class, in the middle of the day, in the middle of the quad. On Valentines Day and on Thursdays. At the station, in front of that smug asshole of a station manager, before going to get a burger, or after. To all the Bellas, to all the Treblemakers, and all the aca-people in between. When she's angry, sad, hormotional, or otherwise. Walls or no walls, he'll shout it through the eighteen inches of steel or concrete that she wraps herself in, because now, now he knows. He gets it.

_God, yes._

...

_"As you walk on by..._

She has a feeling.

That the faint edges of his mouth, over there at the fifth row, are curved into the smile that has ruined every other smile for her. It's her turn to sing to him, and she has a feeling that he knows what she's doing here. Her doubts melt away, replaced by a funny memory of the taste of Capri Sun.

_"...will you call my name."_

...

In the dim light of the audience, their eyes connected, their hearts on the line, he knows she must see him, because he can just catch that look...

He raises his fist. _Of course_, he raises his fist.

...

There are no words, no clever puns or wit, there is nothing in the world, that can describe what she feels when she sees that faint image of a fist pump.

_Hell, yeah._

...

_There she is._

A fist pump in response to his, and he thinks he's going to burst. Explode. Combust. That's Beca Mitchell, badass movie-hater, singing his song back to him. He would have held his arm up, kept it up for six more hours and forever after, if he had known that was all it would take. Because in that infinity within a second...

_To see your eyes like this, that's all I can ever hope for._

And _god_, if this moment isn't the culmination of his movie-worthy life.

(Or maybe it's the stage lights. He reminds himself to give the lighting technician some flowers and a basket of fruit, because _goddamn_, if the lights weren't perfect in that moment.)

But of course she would take it all back and remix it with Pitbull. How can she not?

_"Tonight, I will love, love you tonight..."_

Because she's Beca, and she's unpredictable and wild and crazy and fanfuckingtastic at what she does. She braids the harmony and the melody and the sopranoes, altos, mezzos. She takes a line and puts it in another, and twists it and morphs it and made it more perfect than anyone else on this planet ever could. Chord progressions, bass lines, downbeats, every single element falling, and falling _together_.

Just like the two of them, all throughout the year.

(Also, _holy mother of all things_, that redhead can bass.)

_"Forget what they say, all my cares they play..."_

Beca runs her hand along the curve of her hips, and Jesse needs to breathe.

There should be a rule against this.

The Bellas are gracing the stage with probably illegal amounts of sexy, and he can just make out that his teammates are so damned intoxicated from all the talent that their competitors are giving away for free. Every single one of them with their mouths dropped open, staring, bobbing their heads. Thank you, John Mayer, for making sure that Bumper, that incorrigible asshole, isn't around to ruin this moment.

_"Grab somebody sexy, tell 'em hey..."_

There must be a rule, somewhere in the handbooks, against that kind of Bella-to-Bella action. Which, okay, he doesn't really wish there was any, but there should be. For the sake of the collective jaw-hanging along the fifth row. It's kind of amazing that none of his teammates have yet to... oh, wait. Kolio is the first one to drool.

(From the corner of his eyes, there's Donald, a finger to the upward curve of his lips, eyes locked in pure adoration, watching a certain, tall blonde who had just removed her jacket.)

Oh wow. Now they're rapping? Damn.

Hip thrusts from stage right and ridiculous levels of hotness to stage left. Well, hell. No way the Treblemakers stand a chance now. Aca-history is being made. And to think that all they want is to make the world dance.

_"Excuse me, but I might drink a little more than I should tonight..."_

Fat Amy's solo suddenly comes on, and christ, if that woman doesn't know how to solo. Yet, through every harmony, every pitch perfect melody, Beca's signature mixing style rings true, her words forming little pockets of lyrics in between, making his heart stop every time.

(Because she's Beca Mitchell, and she has that effect on him.)

_"And I might take you home with me if I could (Don't you) tonight (forget about me)..."_

And then she takes it all back, twists the tempo and throws it all again, eyes ablaze with a fire, the lust and the passion that she has always possessed.

And that isn't a PG-13 sound she makes, either.

Holy shit.

(Insert completely inappropriate thought, right here.)

_"Don't you forget about me..."_

It's no longer a declaration, or a question. This is her exclamation to the world, and Jesse isn't about to blink for one fucking second, because he will drown in every bit of her that he can possible have, like he's been drowning in the past year. This is Beca, her heart on the stage, her voice in his ears, and he's drowning. Falling. Fallen. This is Beca, her music, her soul, and he does not need air.

As far as he's concerned, he has died and gone to heaven.

_"We might not get tomorrow, let's do it tonight!"_

...

The silly thing about romcoms is that they never really tell the whole story.

Beca is exhausted, but in a good way. In a great way. And she can't stop smiling and that's a good thing. She doesn't want stop smiling. In fact, she only wants one thing right now.

The Bellas are on high, on top of the world that is Collegiate Acapella. They made it through, with the sound of the roar of the audience as their proof. She led them here, to this moment, and Aubrey is hugging her again, and every one is all hugs and she doesn't fucking care, because as much as a badass she is, sometimes, it's okay to like hugs. There's nothing wrong with hugs. Or kisses. Or other people.

The thing with romcoms, as she would later tell him, is that they're predictable. But they don't tell the whole story. Because the guy holding the boombox, sometimes, he gets tired. And then what? She's not about to toss and turn for the rest of her life, waiting for him to get un-tired.

Sometimes, you just gotta hold the boombox yourself.

That is, if you want the endings to be the best part.

(Which she does.)

She descends the stage and everything can go melt, because all she cares about is the nerd down at the fifth row.

He says something, which barely registers, because he's such a weirdo.

_Her_ weirdo now. That fist pump sealed the deal.

(She throws her microphone away in careless abandon. She doesn't need it anymore.)

So she closes the distance between them. In every sense of the word.

...

There are some things in life that, once you experience them, take away a little bit of everything else.

Kissing Beca Mitchell is one of those things.

Because Beca Mitchell is all of those things.

And his heart still does this thing, around her. Except that it doesn't hurt anymore. Not even in the slightest. Not with her lips smiling against his, her eyes crinkling, matching his own, and he can't even pinpoint the moment that she pulled him close, because he has always been pulled close. He was, is, and always will be pulled impossibly close to her.

This kiss? Totally inevitable anyway.

He called it. Best friends and/or lovers.

(But now that they're both, he can die a hero.)

...

Here's the truth: Beca doesn't know how to communicate feelings for shit.

She doesn't know what to say, she doesn't know how to wordify, because English is a drunk bastard that makes no sense.

She does, however, know how to make music.

Between her and Jesse, it's the only way she knew how to tell him. Simple Minds. The metaphorical boombox under Jesse's window, because she's alternative; gender specifics be damned. She needs him to to understand that she will push him away, she will tug, she will refuse his help, and she will refuse him. She will put up walls, time and again. But she will never, _ever_, want him to forget about her.

Because from now, up to forever, she's going to try.

(Which includes kissing him. It's really not _too_ bad. Her heart is going a thousand beats per minute, which should count as cardio. She'll have to do this more often.)

...

"Told you you they won't french it," Stacie says to Amy as they watch the culmination of a year's worth of sexual tension, making out in the middle of the audience.

"Damnit." Amy hands Stacie a twenty, from deep within the crevices of her ample cleavage.

...

"Strong with him."

"The Force is."

Donald leaves out a palm which Benji automatically low-fives, neither of them looking away. Watching their third member get lucky at the fifth row, they both heave a sigh. Ah, _finally_. It took long enough.

There's a bit of a ruckus beside the seats, as caused by the two aca-groups, right before the announcer comes to introduce the next performance. So Donald doesn't expect a light tap on his shoulder. He turns around.

"Hi."

He smiles.

"Hey, Bree."

...

When they pull away (because he might not need air, but she's still breathless from the heights of her music _directed to him_), his brain is overheated enough to be able to fry a sunny-side up.

Because thinking of eggs is easier than trying to understand whatever the hell it is that he did to deserve this. Or her. The crowd is still clapping, and it seems like an applause he doesn't deserve, a standing ovation for the ridiculous ending that she just gave him, and he's just, maybe, a little drunk from the intesity of it all.

"Why'd you do that?" he mindlessly asks.

(The smirk that graces her features is all the answer he needs.)

"'Cause I knew you wouldn't."

It is at this point that he finally tells himself, with a resolve to match his unyielding heart, that this is the woman he'd like to spend eternity with. And then some.

...

Love is complicated.

Especially between a nerd and the girl with the earspike.

But once you get over the whole earspike thing, the nerd thing, the not liking movies and the being a total dork, once you get over the pride and the denial, get over the fear and get over the rejection, it becomes a little bit less complicated.

Love is what _this_ is, after all.

Took them both a while to get that. But now that they do, love is pretty simple:

It's meeting the other, halfway there.

_**fin**_

.:.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Warning, this is the longest Author's Note you will probably encounter, but this is it. Roll credits.

Music: From Pitch Perfect (2012), Bellas Finals and Treblemakers Finals

Movies: The Breakfast Club (1985); Say Anything (1989)

CREDITS:

If you've come to this point, and if you have read my other AN's, then I hope you know how grateful I am for your reading this. This fic and pairing has taken over my mundane life, and writing it has been a sincere pleasure. I can only hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed watching the movie, like, eighteen billion times.

You are all wonderful nerds who deserve a round of applaus for sticking with me through this. I thank thee.

:)

I kept on writing and rewriting this chapter, before I told myself to "screw it, let's just do it". I only hope that I did the ending some justice. I just knew that it had to be this way, with the revelation and the name thing, when I watched the deleted scene, with Beca going out with Luke. It's a testament to the brilliance of Kay Cannon (scriptwriter), the moment that Beca says "I don't know" when Luke asks her why she didn't tell him her name. So there, that's my reason.

I finally decided to put an end to the whole Donald mystery. I wasn't supposed to mention it again, but okay. That one came from my love of Anna Camp, and my love for Utkarsh Ambudkar, among other reasons. See if you can find that one deleted scene which made my mind go cray cray.

Finally, here is a bunch of names of aca-awesome dorks, with whom I have become friends with, whether they like it or not:

_ohchan_ - My beautiful beta, to whom I dedicate all the subtext in this chapter, because she gets me.

_PitchPerf_ - If I could, I'd give you a juice pouch right now.

_wheresmywings_ - I swear, sometimes I just wanna post a chapter to read your live reviews.

_MissLiv_ - We stick together till the end.

_amateur-hourd_ - You're the nerd to my dork. The Jesse to my Benji.

_Hate Finding Usernames_ - (To everyone who is reading this, you know who this person is. You know who she is, or I'm judging you so hard right now.)

_stopthenrewind_ - Why do you even grace the pages of my reviews. Why. I don't understand.

_theasbofive_ - (Again, you dorks. If you don't know who this is, we can't be friends.)

_Grey_ - For all I know, you could be Kay Cannon... oh my god...

_filmyfurry _and_ .792_ - Every single page, you're there. And I appreciate how you take the time. Thank you. :)

And finally, this chapter is brought to you by Bianca and Jill, who wrote "Pitching it Perfectly" and "Source Music", respectively. They're the reasons I started writing this in the first place, so if you like this fic, go thank them. :))

And now, I'm off to focus on my other project. And I just have to say, thank you so much again. I realize I'm such a sappy fool in my ANs, but I get real crummy sometimes, it happens. But then, your words of encouragement are too much. I love every single one of you. (Yuck, feelings. But it's true.)

But since you read all the way up to the end of the Author's Note, here's a little goodie, as inspired by _wheresmywings_...

* * *

Bumper doesn't realize that he's standing in the middle of a sand ocean as he yawns and sleepwalks out of the bus, which speeds away as soon as he's off. (Because even vehicles don't like him.)

"Los Angeles, here I co-"

He opens his eyes to the wonderful emptiness of nowhere, in particular.

What the fuckles?!

...

*_ef you, ef you very very much..._*

Chloe's phone rings, so she wipes her hands and takes her phone out, cradling it between her head and shoulders.

"Hello?"

"_Who is this? Is this John Mayer's new assistant? Where's Mr. Zee?_" Bumper's voice on the other end sounds shellshocked.

Whoops. Chloe chuckles, and shoots the other Bellas a funny little look. They're eating some shawarma, courtesy of Jesse's insistence on some form of "after-credits" scene, with his arms wrapped around Beca, with her, sitting on his lap. He can barely grin from all the mouthfuls that he's biting from her food when Beca wrinkles her nose up at him.

The Bellas perk up to listen to Chloe put on a show.

...

_"I am afraid, Mistah Allen, that John Mayah won't be needin' your service any longah."_

Bumper's face scrunches up from the low boom of Mr. Zee on the other end. Wasn't he just talking to a woman?

...

The Bellas are spurting little bits of mayonaised cabbage and beef, trying to contain their laughter. Chloe shoots Amy an inquiring look, which Amy ponders.

_Oh, alright. You may._

"I hope your sandals are as good as you say they are, Bumper, because LA is kind of far."

_"Chloe?!"_

"It's Mistah Zee, to you," Chloe says, quickly changing to baritone, right before hanging up. Ah, yes. Her nodes are the best thing that has ever happened to her.

...

Bumper hangs up his phone, the sun shining on him in what could be the Sahara, for all he knows. And he doesn't even have sunblock.

_Goddamnit, John Mayer._


End file.
